Wonders Never Cease
by SweetUnknown
Summary: When the White Queen has Hatter kidnapped, Alice doesn't hesitate to go after him. But things have become madder than ever in Wonderland, and with war on the horizon, this adventure, as Hatter would say, is a whole different kettle of onions.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

It had always been the case for Alice that she didn't usually remember her dreams unless they were bad ones, the most common involving falling or her father disappearing. Both of which had cropped up in her nightly REM cycle more often than she'd liked those first few weeks after returning from Wonderland. But eventually they had gone from 'regular' back to 'rare' as the time passed, and now if she had any dreams, good or bad, they mostly revolved around Hatter.

That she saw him everyday and her mind still felt compelled to keep him around even in sleep told Alice she had become well and truly hopeless when it came to her rogue Wonderlander. There had been a time, beginning that first week after he had followed her back to her world, that she had worried with Hatter literally taken out of the context in which their relationship had begun, that the two of them wouldn't make sense anymore. He would realize what a boring Oyster she was, and what a boring place she lived in compared to the mad chaos of his homeland. And she would realize that she had gotten the feelings wrong, _again_, and it was only the situation that had made what she had felt between them seem different, special, real.

But then he had come home from work one evening with a cake to celebrate passing his ninety-day probation period, and an hour later they had looked at each other over a thoroughly demolished pile of chocolate and cream, and both of them had started laughing, and kissing, and using the leftover cake in some _very_ naughty ways, and while Alice might have forgotten _both_ their names for a moment at the end there, the only thing she forgot _for _good were her fears.

But that was neither here nor there, as she was pondering the nature of her dreams right now and the fact that the one she was currently having was very much out of the norm for her, as it didn't involve Hatter, or her father, or falling—the last of which she was grateful for.

It involved a cat. And tea.

Alice watched with bewildered amusement as a very rotund tabby sipped daintily from its teacup, one fuzzy pinky aloft, nail politely retracted. The cat vaguely reminded her of Dinah, if her late pet weighed twenty pounds more than she ought and had a purpley sheen to her fur. _And_ if she knew how to properly prepare and serve tea—but that went without saying.

The cat set down its cup and picked a sweet roll off the tray. For a table that barely sat two, there was quite a spread. A multitude of tiny cakes, cookies, fresh bread and scones, with butter and a variety of jams to go along with it all. Plus three different pots of tea, a giant bowl of sugar and two of cream.

"Your tea will get cold if you don't drink it soon," said the cat.

Alice looked down at her cup, which did indeed seem to be shivering with the beginnings of a chill.

"This must be the strangest dream I've ever had," she declared.

"In what way?" asked the oddly-colored feline.

"Well, to start, I've never had tea with a cat before."

"And what a terrible thing to miss out on, as I've been told that I make quite an excellent tea partner," it said with the utmost sincerity. "I can't tell you how many times I've left the table only to have them call after me, 'Our dearest, Chesh, do have one more cup before you go! Give us a parting tail!' But of course I never do, as I've only got the one you see and have no inclination to part with it, no matter how much they beg me to."

At the name "Chesh", Alice started. She gaped at the overweight feline, which had finished its roll and was now cleaning its whiskers free of the crumbs. "You mean… you're the Cheshire Cat? _The_ Cheshire Cat?"

It looked up at her, yellow eyes huge and luminous in its face. It's lips parted in an impossibly wide grin, teeth sharp. "As surely as you are _the_ Alice."

"But I'm _not_ '_the_ Alice'," she said. The words came out weary. She'd been over this with people too many times. "I'm just… Alice. _An_ Alice. At most, the _current_ Alice, though even that is giving me too much credit, I think."

The Cheshire Cat cocked its head, that unnerving smile not shrinking an inch. "Why do you think that?"

"Because! The only reason I got involved in that whole… escapade… was because I felt guilty and obligated to Jack. And the only reason I defeated the Red Queen was because I was fortunate enough to find people to help me." She added in a mutter, "Along with a lot of pure, dumb luck."

"And that doesn't make you Alice—why?"

Alice huffed. She wasn't going to waste her breath arguing with a cat. "Nevermind," she said.

"What an odd thing to say," mused the Cheshire. "Never mind what? Everything should be minded at least sometimes. Otherwise, if you never minded something, it's for a surety that you would become neglectful with whatever it is, and then who's to say you wouldn't mind other things? Your step, for instance. Or your manners! What a dreadful thing that would be, if you stopped minding your manners. They're very important, manners are."

Was it possible to become mentally dizzy? Alice was certainly feeling close to it now.

"Shouldn't you be in Wonderland?" she said.

The cat tipped its head back thoughtfully. "Should I be? Perhaps. That's where I usually am. Though I can't recall a reason for me to be there now."

"But you have a reason for being in my dream?"

"I do, in fact," said the Cheshire, much to Alice's surprise. "I have something to tell you." It tapped its furry chin with an equally furry paw. "Hmm. It's quite important, if only I could recall it. Tea is such a delightful distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. One forgets all sorts of things when counting out the sugar cubes."

"This sugar isn't cubed," Alice pointed out. "You're either teasing me or stalling. If it's important, you need to tell me. Is it about Wonderland? Jack? Is it Charlie?"

"Do you like guessing games?" the Cheshire inquired abruptly.

"Not really," said Alice, not sure what it was getting at.

"Then why are you playing one now?"

Well!

Alice bit her lip and sat back, waiting. The Cheshire took another sip of its tea, lazily swishing the contents around as if fascinated by the dregs. Faintly, she heard him purr. Definitely teasing. The damn cat was milking the moment for all it was worth, which was almost all of her patience.

At last, it said, "Ah yes, that's right. It's about the Hatter."

Alice had been reaching for her teacup as it said this—the poor cup was turning a distressing shade of blue and rattling quite noisily on its saucer now—but at the mention of Hatter she jerked so badly she nearly knocked the little thing over.

"Hatter? _My_ Hatter?"

"Indeed. They are coming for him."

This had her sitting up straight. "They who? Why?"

"They should've arrived by now," the Cheshire went on, as if she hadn't spoken. "So I would wake up now, if I were you, before it's too late. You don't want them taking him, trust me."

It didn't occur to Alice that the cat might be lying, or that this was just a dream, and shouldn't have any bearing on reality at all. If someone was coming for Hatter, she had to wake up. She had to warn him, protect him.

Alice shoved away from the table so hard she almost upended it. Silverware rattled. Grass crunched under her feet as she stumbled away. She hadn't been aware of her surroundings before, but now she saw that they were in some sort of clearing. It was night, and the long shadows made everything looked gloomy and faintly menacing. In the distance, a windmill with ragged fans turned slowly, counter-clockwise.

_Wake up! Wake up!_ she told herself. But even as panicked as she was, she stayed asleep.

"Try the tea," the Cheshire suggested, plucking up another scone. "Tea always helps."

"How will tea help me wake up?" Alice demanded, turning in circles as if she could find an exit somewhere. Gritting her teeth, she pinched her arm. It hurt, and it didn't work.

"Like this," said the cat, and when Alice turned back around to look, received a splash of cold tea right in the face.

* * *

><p>Alice came awake with a jerk. The bedroom was still dark, though it had lightened enough that she could make out the books in the bookshelf across from her, telling her it was sometime early morning. Her gaze landed, as it did every time she woke up, unerringly on the worn book halfway up the shelf, squashed between a copy of <em>Catch-22<em> and a binder full of dessert recipes: _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. Everything was quiet, all was as it should be, and though panic lingered, she couldn't recall why. Did she have a bad dream?

Hatter was warm and snug against her back, one leg pushed between hers, the fingers of his left hand curled loosely over her hip. His breathing was deep and even and it helped calm Alice's racing heart.

She pressed further against him and sighed, reassured by his closeness while acknowledging the irony of it. When they had first moved in together, she had not been so enamored with his clingy sleeping habits.

"Have you always been such a cuddler?" she had asked him after waking up in a similar position for the third night in a row.

"I am no' a cuddler," he had been quick to defend. Giving her nose a playing poke, he said, "But you, my Alice, are a blanket hog."

"I am not!" said Alice indignantly. She had avoided sleepovers with her previous boyfriends whenever possible, but surely she had stuck around long enough for at least _one_ of them to notice such a thing and point it out to her, if that were the case.

"You most certainly are," said Hatter, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her over so that she was flush against him. "And the way I see it, I can either fight you for the sheets every night—which, considerin' your tendency to kick, isn't per'aps the greatest idea—or I can stick to you like honey so tha' no matter how much of the blanket you take, I'm still covered. Between the two, I think the choice is obvious, don't you?"

"It's 'stick to you like _glue'_," mumbled Alice. "Not honey."

Hatter made a face. "Who wants glue all over them? Honey, on the other hand…" And rolling her under him, he had proceeded to show her, with much cuddling and hands-on demonstration, just how much better his version of phrase was. Needless to say, by the time he had gotten through with her, Alice had found herself very much converted—to both cuddling and honey.

A thump came from the living room, quiet, but not something Alice recognized as a normal night sound for the apartment.

"_They are coming for him."_

Like that, it all came back to her. Her dream, the Cheshire's warning, and her fading sense of urgency, now returned in full force. _Run! Hide! Fight! Protect!_

Behind her, Hatter's breathing stuttered as he woke and he went tense. Lightly, he squeezed her hip. Alice nodded, knowing he could feel it. Yes, she was awake. Yes, she had heard that too.

Silently, they untangled from each other and crept over to the door that led to the living room, both adjusting their nightclothes as they went. Luckily, they had been too tired to do much more than fall into bed last night, so they were fairly decently dressed for a confrontation. Hatter had on boxers and a t-shirt; Alice, a tank and pajama bottoms. She wished there was time to grab Hatter's old Kevlar vest out of the closet and throw it on him, but she knew even if she could dig it out, he'd only force it on her instead.

She was a little ahead of Hatter and so claimed the right side of the doorway, giving her first crack at whoever was on the other side when it opened. Hatter tried to nudge her over, but she stood firm and met his gaze as well as she could through the darkness. Her point was clear: _I'm not moving._

He nudged her again, more firmly this time. She batted him away and made a quick judo move in the air with her hands. _I know how to fight, remember? I got this._

He waved her off and mimed shooting a gun. _That won't help you if they're armed._

He made a fist with his right hand. Alice rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger at him. _That won't help _you_ if they're armed, either._

From the other side of the door came another thump and a muffled curse. It sounded like someone had stubbed their toe on one of the boxes she and Hatter had yet to unpack from their move. There were whispers from what sounded like several men. Alice didn't recognize any of them.

Hatter still wasn't budging and Alice had to fight the urge to snap at him. They didn't have time to argue this. If the Cheshire was right, these men were coming to get him, and that meant, armed or not, she was taking the lead on this. He was just going to have to deal.

So she punched him. It wasn't a hard punch, more a fisted shove to the solar plexus, but it caught Hatter by surprise and he stumbled back. It was only a couple of steps, but it was enough to get him on the other side of the door and out of the way. His shadowed expression said he wasn't happy with her, but at least he stayed put.

The whispering abruptly ceased; the doorknob turned. Alice readied herself. Across from her, Hatter did the same.

The door swung inward and Hatter used the momentum to kick it back, catching the first person who stepped through in the face. The man fell back with a grunt, knocking over two more men who were behind him.

"They're awake!" someone yelled, and Alice leapt forward as a fourth man came charging through. She grabbed him and, in one graceful motion, flipped him over her shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground and hearing the air leave his lungs with an audible, "_Oof!_"

She faced the three rising men. Even when the first one made it back to his feet, he hesitated to attack. Alice, in turn, made no moves. He was very tall, having almost half a foot on the other men and more than a foot on her—not that it intimidated her at all. As someone of her diminutive size, she was used to sparring with such height differences.

Hatter was around the door now. He grabbed the man she had thrown and hauled him up by his collar, reaching over and slapping on the bedroom light with his free hand as he did so.

Everyone was forced to squinted against the sudden brightness. From the corner of her eye, Alice saw Hatter's shock as he took the man in. He looked just like the three standing in front of her: dirty, with a scruffy beard and bulky, layered clothing that was faded and worn. But he was clearly older then the others, his skin saggier, with wrinkles around his mouth and eyes and copious amounts of gray in his hair and beard.

He grinned up at Hatter, revealing several missing teeth.

"'Ello, mate," he said. "Long time no see."

"No," Hatter breathed.

"You said tha' the last time, too. Didn't help you then, either, if I recall." He directed a glare over Hatter's shoulder at the others. "Stop yer gawkin' now, boys, and finish this. We haven't got all day."

Nodding, the tall man pulled something out of his pocket. It was small and square, much like a ring box, and Alice hesitated, unsure what he intended to do with it and whether or not she should touch it in order to take it from him.

Hatter whirled around, saw what the man was holding, and yelled, "Alice! Don't let 'im—"

He never got to finish. There was a flash of blinding light and the next thing Alice knew, she was flying backwards across the room.

"_Alice!_"

She crashed hard into the bookshelf, crumpling into a pile of agony. Her vision was a mess of spots and every nerve in her body felt like they were trying to vibrate right out her skin. Her stomach heaved and she gagged hard enough to make her eyes water, but there was nothing there to give up besides some bile, which she spit unceremoniously onto the carpet before wiping her mouth with a shaking hand, fighting the overwhelming urge to pass out then and there.

The older man used the distraction to yank himself free from Hatter's grip. He spun away just as Hatter swung at him, ducking and returning the hasty right hook with a better-aimed one of his own. Alice opened her mouth to yell out a warning, but her tongue felt swollen and the words wouldn't come out right. Hatter's head snapped back and he fell to his knees.

Immediately, the others were there, shoving him down and pinning his arms. Alice tried to get up, to go help him, but her legs felt like Jell-O. Jell-O filled with needles, and she collapsed with a choked gasp of pain.

"Don't s'pose you'll give up and come with us quietly?" said the older man, coming to stand over Hatter. Hatter didn't respond, only struggled harder to get away, but they held him firm.

The older man sighed and crouched down next to him. There was something in his hand now. For a second, Alice thought it was another one of those things they had used on her, and she struggled to rise once again so she could stop them. But then he held the object up and she saw that it was a… petite four?

Hatter cursed, snapping his mouth shut and locking his jaw as the older man brought the tiny cake to his lips, wheedling, "C'mon now. I just need ya to take one little bite for me."

Hatter tried to turn his head away, but the man caught him by the jaw and forced him back, using his thick fingers to pinch open Hatter's mouth and shove the cake in. Hatter choked and immediately spat it out—but not all of it. At least half of it, he had swallowed.

His struggles immediately weakened. His head dropped back, eyelids fluttering closed.

"Bastard," he wheezed.

Oh God, had they just drugged him? Poisoned him? Alice was on her feet now. Pain radiated up her legs, but she forced herself to move, a wobbly shuffle that was nowhere near fast enough.

"S'thop it," she said around her numb tongue, which was beginning to tingle as feeling returned to it. "Leab him alone."

The older man glanced over at her. His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well look at you, up and about so quickly. I'm impressed. You really are the Alice of Legend. I can see why Hatter followed you."

She didn't have the ability to give the scathing retort she wanted to. Instead, she could only say, "Hadder."

"Is fine, as you can see. Just had to make some… _small_ adjustments for the trip." He laughed as if he had made some great joke. The others laughed too.

Alice made it to the bed and grabbed the footboard to steady herself. The pain was receding faster. If she could just keep them from doing anything else until—

Hatter groaned, and then his body twisted and he screamed. The three holding him let him go, giving him room, and Alice gasped as, in the next second, Hatter visibly shrunk before her very eyes, clothes and all.

No. No, it wasn't possible. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her brain refused to process it.

"Ah, there we go," said the older man, beaming. "Perfect."

Alice stared as Hatter sat up, looking dazed. He was no more than foot tall. He shook his head as if to clear it, tiny cowlicks flopping.

"_Hatter_," she gasped.

Hatter looked over at her. Then had to look up, and up. He blinked, then took in the men surrounding him, looming over him in the most literal sense of the word. In a voice that sounded surprisingly normal, if a little weaker, he said, "_Bollocks_."

He scrambled to his feet, but the others were already grabbing for him. The older man plucked him up and held him to his chest like a child might their favorite doll. Hatter thrashed but his arms were pinned, his little legs kicking air.

Alice stumbled towards them, steps more sure but still awkward. "Let him go right now."

"Sorry, love," said Hatter's captor. "But your man's gotta come with us now. It was a pleasure meeting you, though. We should have tea sometime." And with a wink, he slipped out, the other three following close behind him.

Alice made a desperate lounge for them, but she was still not anywhere near recovered and they dodged her easily. She hit the doorframe and clung as her legs threatened to give out.

Out of the apartment they went. She heard the slam of the stairwell door. This wasn't happening. She refused to accept it. To lose Hatter… No!

By the time Alice reached the stairs, she was able to walk normally again. By the time she hit the street, she was able to run. She didn't have to stop and wonder where they'd gone. Even if she hadn't had that chat with the Cheshire, people like that, with their incredible weapons and food that could shrink you down to impossible sizes, only came from one place: Wonderland.

The Looking Glass was where it always was, tucked away where the maze of forgotten backstreets dead-ended. Alice caught herself before she could trip into it this time, taken aback by what she saw within the large gilded frame.

Instead of being faced with a deceptively innocuous mirror, she found herself staring at, not her reflection, but a painting.

It was a landscape piece, boring for all that it was huge. Hills of grass stretched in every direction under a plain blue sky. There were no animals or clouds, nothing to fill the space besides a fat oak tree off to the side, near the top of one of the steeper hills.

Alice looked closer. Four familiar figures had been painted halfway up the hill. Their poses were all of men frozen mid-climb, like they would be in a normal painting. But unlike in a normal painting, there was no denying that they were steadily getting closer to the tree, one still inch at a time.

Alice pressed her hand against the surface of the canvas and pushed. Before, the Looking Glass had had very little resistance. It had been like falling through water. But this… she pushed again, harder. This was closer to rubber. It didn't want to let her through at all.

She retreated back until there was a good bit of distance between her and the mirror-turned-painting. She was out of breath and her feet hurt from running barefoot over the hard, gritty cement, and no doubt this was going to be unpleasant, but she ignored all of it. She had a Hatter to rescue.

She took a breath, crouched, and then sprinted full-tilt towards the Looking Glass, springing up at the last moment so she didn't catch her toes against the bottom of the frame. It was like doing a vertical belly flop against a trampoline, and Alice had a moment of panic that it would slingshot her back. But then it gave with a slurping rip and she found herself sprawled on her stomach in a thick mess of grass.

Dragging herself up, she looked around, struggling to get her bearings. She expected to find the Looking Glass behind her, but nothing was there, just more field. No going back that way then.

The tree was to her left. Hatter's kidnappers had reached the top and were vanishing one by one around the back of it. Alice chased after them. It was much hotter here, and by the time she reached the top, she was sweating and the backs of her calves were covered in dirt and bits of grass she had kicked up while running.

She rounded the tree and stopped. There was no one there. Had they evaporated? Flown away? At this point, such things didn't seem at all impossible.

She looked down and her eyes caught on a dark space hidden between the exposed roots at the base of the tree, no more than three feet wide. A… hole?

_Ooooh no_. Damn it, Alice knew how this went. Falling through the Looking Glass was one thing, now she had to fall down a rabbit hole too?

She stomped around a bit, cursed, then stomped a bit more, but it didn't change the fact that she had to go down, and quickly, before they escaped from her altogether.

Carefully, she picked her way over to the hole and, crouching down, swung her legs over the edge. Pure blackness beckoned. Alice squeezed her eyes shut against the rush of vertigo and felt around until her fingers hit one of the thicker roots. She grabbed it tight, and, with deep breaths and more cursing, lowered herself down. Her feet scrapped the edges of the hole, causing looser rocks and roots to break free and fall in echoing tumbles that made her stomach clench. She could feel the cool air from the updraft and wondered how deep a hole had to be to get that kind of gust.

All that was left to do now was drop, but Alice couldn't make herself let go. What if there was a trick to this? What if she let go and plummeted to her death because she hadn't eaten the right cake, or drank the right tea, or because she was an Oyster and Oysters were not meant to fall down impossibly deep rabbit holes and live to tell the tale! As Hatter said, Wonderland wasn't just a story in a kid's book. It was very real, and so were the dangers, and this set-up was sickeningly familiar. The last time she had tried to bluff her way down a bottomless pit had been with two crazy doctors looking on, and she had almost gotten herself killed. If she'd missed something…

But there was no time to make sure. It was either go, or stay and give up on Hatter forever, leaving her stranded in this empty field and Hatter to whatever fate those men had in store.

Alice let go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The rabbit hole was so dark, and went so deep, and was so damn _drafty,_ that for the first few minutes Alice couldn't tell if she was plummeting to her death or not. It was terrifying, not being able to tell how fast she was falling or how far left she had to go. Not knowing if she would ever land or if she was about to go splat, especially for someone with a crippling fear of heights. And worse than not knowing was all the time she had to worry about it. One minute turned into two, which turned into four, which turned into eight, and every second of all those minutes felt like an eternity to Alice.

But then she passed a lamp. It was jutting out of the dirt wall at an angle, bulb lit and the chain swinging as if someone had just turned it on. The shade was nothing but some bare wire with a few scraps of colorless fabric clinging to it, the body a dinged up copper-colored metal. That she passed by it slow enough to note such details told Alice she wasn't plummeting after all, though she still remained on edge. Any second whatever was keeping her fall at such a slow pace could go away, and she'd still be screwed.

But the time dragged on and the rate of her descent didn't change. She passed by another lamp, this one made out of ceramic and with a shade in the shape of a clamshell. She passed by a desk, which was free floating and had on it a familiar lace fan and gloves, plus a stack of paperwork that looked like it would take hours to sort through. She passed a cabinet filled with jars labeled ORANGE MARMALADE (all empty), a rocking chair that was furiously rocking as if trying to keep itself aloft by that alone, and a teapot that was whistling the tune "I'm a little teapot."

She passed bookshelves filled with books she didn't recognize, and though she was bored enough by this point to grab one up and rifle through it, she found that it was written in a language she didn't recognize and there weren't even any pictures, so she wound up dumping it on the next shelf she came across.

She passed a hat rack that was bare, and coat rack smothered in shawls. A tub filled with soapy water (Alice stuck a finger in and found it to be rather tepid). A fully made bed piled high with pillows in a multitude of colors and fabrics. A chessboard that had a crack running down the middle of it and was missing half its pieces. (The remaining half were wandering in decidedly bored manner around their squares.) A baby grand piano. Half a dozen more lamps (some bright, some uselessly dim), and countless other things she didn't recognize or have a name for.

Eventually, when Alice had been falling for so long that splatting was starting to look preferable to all this endless falling, the last of the lamps faded away and she found herself enveloped in darkness once more. It was so dark, she didn't even realize she had reached the bottom of the rabbit hole until her feet met the cool resistance of tile.

Her heart leapt. She had made it down alive—and so unexpectedly too!

There was the faintest bit of light to her right and Alice headed towards it as fast as she dared. It opened up into a circular room, wide with a vaulted ceiling in dark wood. Heavy maroon drapes covered most of the walls, and the floor was a dull red/black color in the standard checkerboard pattern. Four mice were scurrying across it.

No, Alice realized, they weren't mice, but tiny men, with a fifth being frog-marched between them.

Hatter!

"Stop!" Alice shouted, dashing after them. With her stride now three times as long as theirs, the distance between them shrank quickly. They ducked behind one of the curtains just as she reached them, and Alice scoffed. Was this hide and seek? Did they really think she'd be fooled by that?

Grabbing a fistful of the plush fabric, she ripped the curtain aside with a victorious, "Ha!"

But instead of the cornered men she expected to find, Alice found herself staring at a door. A door that didn't reach her knee.

She dropped down and tried to shove her way through, headfirst, but couldn't get any farther than her ears. She was simply too big.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

She laid down on her stomach and peered through the doorway. Grass filled her vision, along the white, tufted edge of a dandelion. It was bobbing from side to side, as if caught in a breeze that couldn't make up its mind which direction it wanted to blow in. Alice could just make out the faint sound of humming, and it took her a minute to accept that it was coming from the bobbing weed.

"Hello," she called to it. "Dandelion? _Hey!_" But no matter how loud she yelled, it refused to acknowledge her or answer back.

_Unbelievable_, she thought. _I'm being slighted by a plant._

Giving up on the dandelion, she returned her attention to the too-small doorway. After everything, was _this_ what she would be defeated by?

She sat back and fumed, letting the anger flow freely. It was that or give in to a total freak out. She had lost Hatter. Lost him! Where were the helpful bottles labeled "DRINK ME" or the cakes that said "EAT ME" that had been in the story? Apparently in the _real_ Wonderland you were responsible for bringing your own.

Stingy Wonderlanders!

Alice looked around, hoping, _praying_ she had overlooked something, and found that she had. Over on the wall by where she had come through there was a switch with a card dangling from it.

She jumped up and raced over to it. The card read "FLIP ME".

Well, it wasn't cake or a drink, but she'd take it!

Alice flipped the switch. There was a deafening grinding noise—it sounded like a cross between blocks of cement rubbing together and rusty gears trying to turn—then there was a clunk, a thunk, and after a extended pause, a final bang that, to Alice's ears, sounded very satisfied with itself.

She returned to the curtain and jerked it back. The door was normal sized now. Alice grabbed the bulbous handle, half-expecting it to be locked now (her luck just seemed to be going that way), but it turned smoothly under her hand and Alice let hope return as she threw open the door dashed through.

Right into the Looking Glass control room.

The place was in an uproar, and not over Alice, either. As far as she could tell, no one had even noticed her appear. Suits were rushing this way and that. More stood in tense groups around the edges of the room, some arguing heatedly, others whispering in fearful tones. Oddly, a couple also appeared to be cleaning the floor.

How had she ended up here? All that grass… She should have been outside somewhere. Had the door's location changed along with its size?

Alice whirled, prepared to go back through and figure it out from there, but found her way back had once again vanished.

Instead of a doorway, she was facing the Looking Glass. It looked like a painting on this side too, only instead of a field it was a dreary depiction of an alleyway. _The_ alleyway.

Son of a bitch.

"Alice!"

She turned. Several suits were over by the control panel, and in the middle of them, staring at her as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, was Jack Heart.

He looked the same as ever. Dyed blonde hair perfectly combed back, suit immaculate, this one a deeper shade of red than the version he had worn as a prince, with diamond cufflinks and gold-colored handkerchief poking out of the breast pocket.

He came over to her, gaze taking in her tousled hair, her sweat-soaked pajamas, her dirty legs and feet. He held out his arms as if to embrace her, but didn't seem able to take his eyes off her long enough to do more than clutch at her shoulders.

"Alice," he said again. "What are you doing here?"

Suddenly finding a (mostly) friendly face was both a relief and a sledgehammer to her shaky emotions, and it was surprisingly hard to admit, "It's Hatter." Her voice cracked on his name.

Jack's hard expression creased with concern. "Hatter? What about him? What happened, Alice?"

"A group of men kidnapped him. I followed them back through the Looking Glass, but it wasn't the usual route and I… and I lost them." Saying it aloud made her failure feel more real somehow and despair hit her hard. She had been _so close._

"What did these men look like?"

She gave him a description.

"It's the same ones," said a voice from behind her, and Alice turned to see a knight standing there, but not Charlie. This one was a woman, early to mid thirties, she guessed, with short blonde hair and sleek red armor that shined. Where they recruiting knights again?

Alice frowned at her. "What do you mean they're the same ones?"

"These men, they broke in here an hour ago and went through the Looking Glass," Jack explained. "Killed three of my best guards too." He gestured to where the Suits were cleaning the floors. Alice's stomach churned.

"But I don't understand. If they came through this way… and if the door I took led me back here…" She flapped her hands in frustration. "How did _they_ not come back through here?"

"The Looking Glass isn't an exact science, Alice," said Jack, his natural instinct to defend the Wonderland contraption making his regret stiff. "The paths one can take going through it are fluid. Leaving Wonderland is usually a straightforward trip, but coming… the Looking Glass could spit you out anywhere, especially if you know how to control it."

Alice had experienced this on her first trip here too, she realized. When she had chased after Agent White and fallen through the Looking Glass, they had bypassed the control room altogether and instead had come out in an abandoned building right next to White Rabbit headquarters.

"But that aside," said Jack, "did they take anything else?"

"You mean _besides_ Hatter?" snapped Alice. "No. They didn't."

"Are you sure?"

"As far as I know. It happened kinda quick, and it's not like I have anything they would want."

"So the Looking Glass was hijacked and my people killed just so these men could get to _Hatter_?" Jack's patent disbelief that anyone could want Hatter for anything grated on Alice's tightly strung nerves. She glared at the King of Hearts, who saw and respectfully schooled his expression into something more diplomatically neutral, though he took his sweet time doing it.

"Hatter had just as big a hand in saving Wonderland as I did," she reminded him in a low voice, quiet enough so that only the Red Knight next to them could hear. "Which means you owe him for that cozy king's seat you have now."

"Yes, well, it's hardly cozy at the moment," Jack muttered.

"What does that mean?"

"Alice, might we talk about all this somewhere a bit more private?" he asked, giving a pointed glance at all the surrounding Suits, many of whom where trying to eavesdrop with failed subtlety. "And while we're at it we can find you something a bit more… comfortable for you to wear."

She blushed. She'd been too distracted losing Hatter to really think about her state of dress, but at Jack's quiet suggestion she finally realized how chilly it was in control room, and that her damp tank top was making a couple things way more noticeable than was probably appropriate for such a public place, and in the presence of a king.

"Fine," she said, more sharply than necessary to cover her embarrassment.

"After you then," he said.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she led the way out. The Red Knight followed along behind them. Jack made no comment on this, and Alice wondered if the woman was acting as his guard, much like the Suits had acted as Secret Service to the Red Queen. She had to say, the knight looked far more competent and impressive than any Suit. It did make her miss Charlie, though. If—_when_—she got Hatter back, they would have to visit the old White Knight before they left.

Outside, she had to take a moment to collect herself before starting off along the narrow ledge that made up the whole of the street. It was going to take a little while for her to get used to this again.

'_Try not to look down. Okay?'_

Oh, Hatter. Why hadn't she woken up sooner? Why hadn't she beaten the crap out of those men when she'd had the chance? Why had she waited for them to make the first move? Why hadn't she fought harder, run faster?

_At least I made it to Wonderland,_ she reminded herself encouragingly. She was in the same world as he was. It was still possible to rescue him, it would just take a little longer. She just needed to stay focused, stay positive, and keep her mind off what couldn't be changed.

To that end, she turned her attention to Jack. He was walking next to her, on the outer side of the ledge, unconcerned about the hundred foot drop only inches to his right.

"So how long have I been gone here?" she asked.

His gaze flicked over her. "About a year."

"The same time as in my world?" Was that normal?

"Yes, well, Time was moving at a much slower pace at first. But things are picking up here now and I'm afraid it's gotten a tad overexcited. Trying to rush things, you could say."

Alice let the idea that Time was some sort of sentient being go with only the slightest pause, accepting that if she stopped to call B.S. on every impossible thing here, she'd never get to the point on anything.

"What does Time want to rush?"

His answer was simple for all that it made Alice's blood run cold.

"War."

* * *

><p>Jack wouldn't answer anything else until they got back to the palace. Alice hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of the place on her first visit to Wonderland, but seeing it now, she wondered how she had missed it.<p>

It sat on the north shore of the lake, smack between where the Heart's Casino used to reside and the city proper. It reminded her of St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow, only in silver and white, with all the domes capping the towers a deep blood-red. Rose vines climbed up the heart-shaped lattices that framed the entranceway. Two Suits, a Four and an Eight, bowed them through.

Inside, the palace's color theme changed little. The walls were still a painful white with red marble floors, red frosted windows, and red velvet curtains looping down from the ceiling. Only the gold accent chairs and side table broke the theme, though their designs were so ostentatious a Suit might as well have painted them red too and called it a day.

Jack took the lead. He paused for a moment to whisper something to a bespectacled Suit who was dusting—the man nodded and hurried off immediately—then ushered Alice into a side room off the main hall. In here, at least, things were a little less glaring. The floor was still the same hideous red marble, but the bright walls had been covered in paintings that all seemed to be set in the woods at night, giving the room a shadier feel to it.

Alice passed one painting and at first couldn't make out anything at all besides darkness. It made her pause. Why hang up an all black canvas? Did Wonderland do modern art?

But the longer she looked, the more her eyes seemed to adjust to it, and slowly she was able to pick out more details, like the slightly lighter strokes of brown the made up the trees. Trees so tall that their tops weren't visible in the frame of the picture. And _there_, the slight form of a ghostly equine body in flight, galloping through the foliage towards a muddy gold form crouched in the brush, barely discernible in the twilight's gloom. Did it know the danger lying in wait? Perhaps it did. Perhaps it wasn't running away at all, but charging forward to meet its adversary, golden horn lowered, hooves pounding the earth as it ran faster, faster. This time… this time they would finish it—

"Alice?"

At Jack's questioning voice, she tore her eyes away from the painting—a little disturbed to find her hand raised as if to touch it—and made her way over to join the others at the long table on the far side of the room. It was very long and made of rosewood, with squares carved into the top, leaving smooth, shallow grooves in its surface. There were sixteen matching chairs surrounding it, two on the ends and seven on each side. The back of each chair had been carved to look like the flattened pieces of a chess set. Jack, unsurprisingly, had taken the king's seat, and the Red Knight had taken the right knight's seat. Both were watching Alice, waiting for her to sit—or was it to choose?

Deciding her safest bet was to play it humble, she took a pawn's seat. The Red Knight looked amused, Jack less so. Alice didn't imagine the odd look that crossed his face, but for the life of her she couldn't interpret it.

"So are you going to tell me about this war now?" she asked, jumping right in. "And more importantly, what it has to do with Hatter?"

"I never said it had anything to do with Hatter," said Jack. "For all we know the two could be entirely unrelated."

"Is Wonderland known for coincidences like that?"

"No," said the Red Knight, earning her king's scowl.

The spectacled Suit appeared in the doorway then. He came over and bowed low to Jack, then went to Alice and held out a small pile of clothes, which she took with a surprised, "Oh! Thank you." The Suit bowed again in response and hurried out.

There was a pair of soft leather boots, loose-fitting pants with a drawstring waist, a long-sleeved tunic, and a cloak. It was a far cry from the modern wardrobe most Wonderlanders wore. It looked more like something Charlie might wear, which made her wonder what ancient trunk they had dug the clothes out of. Oh well.

Alice threw it all on over her nightclothes then dropped back into her seat, already warmer and much more comfortable.

"Let's start with your trip through the Looking Glass first," Jack said once she had resettled. "You told me it wasn't by the usual route. What route did you take?"

So Alice told them about the Looking Glass becoming a painting, how she had forced her way through and then went down the rabbit hole, losing Hatter and the others at the little door she hadn't been able to fit through until she'd found the switch, but which had then led her to the control room instead of wherever they had gone. Jack's expression became more and more stony as she told her story, and he was silent for several long minutes after she had finished.

"And you're sure it was the flower that was humming? It wasn't just someone far enough off that you couldn't see them? It was definitely the flower?"

"I'm sure," said Alice. "It looked like it was even dancing, sorta."

"They've taken him to her wood," the Red Knight murmured, eyebrows pinched and mouth set in an unhappy line.

"That doesn't mean she ordered it," argued Jack.

"And the enchanted cake? There's only one who still knows the recipe for that."

"They could have bought it from her."

The Red Knight scoffed. "Since when does she hold bake sales? And the rabbit hole? That's her personal route, as I know your majesty is well aware."

Alice had never heard Jack called "your majesty" before. It sounded both ridiculous and unnerving. "Who's 'she'? Who are talking about?"

Jack sighed the sigh of one thoroughly resigned. "The White Queen."

Alice gaped at him. "She's real _too_? Since when?"

"Since forever."

"But what does she want with Hatter?"

He rubbed at his temples as if getting a headache. "I haven't the slightest idea."

Alice wracked her brain for any memory where Hatter might have mentioned knowing—or, more likely, _crossing_—the White Queen, but came up with nothing. That didn't necessarily mean anything, though. If the experience had been an unhappy one, he might have kept it from her. The stories he told her about his time in Wonderland—they were almost always silly stories, funny anecdotes or sometimes naughty secrets about the people he knew, things that would make Alice laugh or blush, or both. The darker things, the sadder things, those had been slower in coming. Even after a year, Alice knew there were still many things about Hatter that she didn't yet know. A fact she had been trying to rectify, slowly, gently.

"And this White Queen... she's who you're at war with?" Alice guessed.

"Unfortunately."

"Why?"

Jack looked up at her, gaze suddenly going cold, and in that moment Alice felt as if she were looking at a king and not just an ex with honesty issues. This was the side of him she had only met briefly before. The side that her mind had been unable to warp around. The side that, truthfully, scared her.

"Because we are in disagreement," he said quietly. "I feel I should be king, and she feels that I… shouldn't be."

"What does she have against you being king?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," he answered curtly. Alice huffed a humorless laugh. Now this was more like the man she knew, tight-lipped to the end.

She glanced over at the Red Knight, waiting for her to interject again. But the armored woman sat quiet in her seat and didn't look tempted to clarify things anytime soon.

Well fine, let Jack keep his secrets. She was used to that from him by now. This war he was in with the White Queen, he could win it or lose it on his own. Her only concern was Hatter.

She stood. The king's cool gaze followed her. "Where are you going?"

"To go get Hatter, of course."

He shook his head. "No, Alice."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you mean, 'no'? I'm not asking you to come with me, Jack. Just point me in the right direction and I'll go on my own."

"It's… it's too dangerous. Understand, please. The White Queen makes my mother look weak. I know how much you care about Hatter, but…" He shook his head again. "No. I'm sorry, Alice, but I forbid you to go."

Alice couldn't believe the nerve of him. "You _forbid_ me? Hey, last I checked, I was not one of your subjects. If I want to go after Hatter, that's my choice, not yours."

That look of his intensified. Alice didn't like it one bit. It reminded her too much of when she'd faced down the Red Queen.

She began to edge her way over to the door. Jack's gaze never left hers as he said, "Red Knight."

The woman was fast. She was out of her seat and at the door before Alice had even reached the doorknob. When she grabbed Alice's shoulder, Alice twisted, grabbing the woman's wrist and using the momentum to force her arm up at such an angle that she was forced to drop to her knees or risk getting her arm pulled from its socket. The Red Knight dropped, but swept out her leg as she did so, knocking Alice back and freeing herself. The next thing Alice knew, she was caught against the door, a dagger at her throat.

Checkmate.

Jack came to stand in front of them. Alice imagined he was trying to look sympathetic, but his eyes were too hard for that.

"You have two choices, Alice," he told her. "You can go home and wait there patiently, and if I can find a way to get Hatter back to you, I will. Or I can have you locked up in my dungeons until all of this is over with and I know you can't get into any trouble. It's up to you."

"I'm not leaving without Hatter," said Alice flatly.

Jack nodded, as if he'd expected nothing less. "Then that only leaves one choice, doesn't it? Red Knight, please see Alice to the dungeon."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The best thing Alice could say about the dungeon was that at least it wasn't done in white and red. For Wonderland, it was unimaginative as far as dungeons go. Dank, moldy stone walls, cool, musty air, and rows upon rows of narrow, barred cells, most of them empty.

Alice wasn't sure if she found the absence of inmates reassuring or not. From what she had seen the last time she'd been in this world, business and politics ran on corruption, and though Jack certainly ran a tighter—and what she hoped was a more morally correct—ship, no way all that crime had vanished in just a year, not when Wonderland had also experienced the overthrow of their ruler (a tyrant though the Red Queen had been), been forced into a mass detox cold turkey thanks to the sudden loss of Oysters, and complete financial collapse (also because of losing the Oysters).

So therefore a vacant dungeon meant one of two things: 1) Either Jack was more lenient when it came to convicting criminals, or 2) the punishments he was meting out didn't involve a simple jail sentence.

Alice didn't try to fool herself into thinking the first one was any more possible than the second, not after everything she'd been through with him, _for_ him. Even though Jack as a ruler was a huge step down in cruelty from his mother, that still left him plenty of headroom in which to operate. And that side of him she didn't understand, that side of him that scared her, that had told her instincts that he wasn't the right one for her, nor she for him, _that_ side was definitely capable of passing judgment as merciless as it was fair. He was a king, after all. The king of Wonderland. He couldn't hold that position without a bit of ruthlessness.

Alice passed a cell that was actually occupied and slowed. Two round, pale faces stared out at her through the bars, familiar as an old nightmare. They were dressed in the same identical outfits they'd been wearing the last time she'd seen them, though a couple of their shirt buckles had come undone, making the leathery fabric baggy and giving the clothes an undone straightjacket look. The two men were not sitting on the supplied bunks or in any way relaxed inside their cell. Instead, they stood together, shoulder-to-shoulder, arms at their sides with their backs straight and chins up, like soldiers waiting at attention for no apparent reason.

The one on the right, Dr. Dee—or was it Dr. Dum?—cocked his head at her. In a tone that was more curious than shocked he said, "It's Alice of Legend."

"It can't be her," argued the one on the left, eyes squinching to scrutinize her.

The first shook his head, lips parting in a crazy, lopsided smile that sent a shiver clear passed Alice's spine all the way down to her heels. "I understand why you would feel contrary. And if it weren't her it wouldn't be, but as it is her, it is."

"It ain't her, nohow," the second insisted.

"Keep moving," the Red Knight told Alice, giving her a warning prod in the back with the dagger she had used to steer her down here.

"Why are _they_ here?" Alice asked as she started forward again. If anyone deserved a harsher punishment, it was those two psychopaths.

"Because they're useful. No one else can get inside an enemy's mind as easily or as deeply as they can. Their interrogation skills are invaluable, especially now that we're at war."

Alice wished she were more surprised that Jack was still employing such people, but walking to her own cell that the new king of Wonderland had assigned to her, the most she could work up was a dull feeling of disappointment.

"And they agreed to continue working, even though you keep them down here?"

"Of course." The Red Knight leaned closer so that her chin was practically resting on Alice's shoulder. "I don't know if you noticed when you were in their care," she whispered, "but the things they do to people, messing with their heads, mentally breaking them down, they _enjoy_ doing that. Any chance they can get, for any reason, they'll take it. Doesn't matter who's asking, or why. Hell, you don't even need to ask, sometimes. Once when I came to deliver their supper, they sang this poem to me, and for the rest of the day when anyone said anything to me all I heard was a rattle shaking. It was not fun. I make a Suit bring them their meals now."

She pulled away, saying at a more normal volume, "So I'd try not to listen to them if I were you."

When Alice shot her a worried look, she grinned. "Don't worry. Your cell's pretty far away, you shouldn't be able to hear them. _Too_ much."

"You know this is crazy, don't you? Locking me up like this for no good reason."

The Red Knight shrugged. "A reason is still a reason. What difference does it make if it's a good one or a bad one?" she asked, very reasonably. "And how do you tell between the two? Perhaps the reason doesn't look good only to you."

Alice would have thrown up her hands in exasperation if she hadn't been afraid the knight would take it as a threat and jab her with the dagger again.

This whole situation was ridiculous. Jack had said going after Hatter was too dangerous for her, but since when had he been so concerned about her safety? Breaking up with a boyfriend was supposed to make them care about you less, not more. And it certainly shouldn't turn them into an overprotective tyrant just because you wanted to do something a little bit risky. He'd had no problem with her being in danger before when she'd come to Wonderland. Half the time, it had been his fault in the first place. Not that she was blaming him, but the point remained. If he had been okay with putting her into risky situations for the good of Wonderland back then, why force her out of the way now? Maybe if she went to see the White Queen, she could help end this war. Through true fate or just lucky coincidence, she seemed to be good at that.

Or… did he think she would make things worse? Granted, she had messed up last time by bringing the ring back to Wonderland, but she liked to think she was smarter now, and everything had worked out well enough in the end, hadn't it? He was king, wasn't he? The most infuriating, overbearing, secret-hoarding king there ever was, but a king nonetheless.

"Here we are," said the Red Knight.

They came to a stop beside a cell twice as big as the others they had passed, and this one was anything but barren inside. The floor was covered in fresh, sweet smelling rushes and a makeshift hammock hung from the ceiling. The cell's bunk had been converted into a table, upon which were various crockery, a couple stacks of books, and even a pile of unfinished knitting. In the corner hung a battered set of armor—armor Alice recognized a split second before she recognized the old man kneeling before it, a rag in his hand, diligently buffing the rusted and dented metal.

"I brought you a surprise, Charlie," said the Red Knight. Alice was too shocked to say anything at all.

The White Knight didn't so much as glance their way. "Another trinket to try and soften me up, Red Knight? Well it won't work I tell you. As I have said countless times, I am an impenetrable fortress! And no amount of bribery or—or fluffy woolen balls are going to get anything out of me!"

The Red Knight's smile was all cheek. "The knitting not going well, huh?"

"I cannot stitch a blasted peacock's tail to save my life!"

"Well no knitting needles are require for this, I don't think." She unlocked the heavy cell door and tugged it open. Charlie glanced over, expression one of careful disinterest until he spotted Alice.

His mouth fell open and he dropped his rag. He was dressed in the same silly long johns he always wore underneath his armor and had the same thin, wavy beard hanging off his chin. His eyes were alight with pure joy as he wobbled to his feet and hurried forward.

"Alice of Legend has come all the way to Wonderland to visit me?" he said. "This is a wonderful surprise, indeed!"

"Actually, she'll be joining you for awhile," said the Red Knight. She gestured for Alice to go ahead. When Alice hesitated, she received another prick to her lower back. Alice glared but went.

"What? I don't… Joining me?" said Charlie, looking from the knight to Alice and back again. "I don't understand."

Alice couldn't say she did either. Why was Charlie here?

The door swung closed behind her with a resounding clang. The noise seemed to jog the older man's understanding. He spluttered in outrage. "You… you can't be serious! Do you realize who this _is_? This is Alice of Legend! She brought down the Red Queen! She saved Wonderland! She is a hero, a champion, a—"

"Legend?" said the Red Knight dryly, sheathing her dagger. "The king is well aware of her status and all she's done for us, trust me."

"And yet you still dare to lock up Wonderland's most beloved idol? You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"We all have our orders to follow," she said. "As a fellow knight, you should understand this well."

"Charlie," Alice murmured, placing a hand on his arm. He was trembling and his face was turning a distressing shade of red. "That's enough. It's all right."

Charlie made a noise that sounded like, "Hermph!" and turned his head away from the Red Knight in a clear snub. The woman sighed. "I'll leave you two to get reacquainted then, shall I? And I'll try and find you something else to do besides knitting. Cards, perhaps?"

When she got no response, she bowed and left. Alice waited until her footsteps had faded before turning to the old knight.

"Charlie, why in the world are _you_ in here?" By the look of things, he had been here awhile. Weeks, if not months.

"Me?" He blinked, his indignation already receding. "Well… because. I am a white knight."

Alice didn't see what that had to do with anything. "So?"

"So, the Red King is currently at war with the White Queen. _White_," he impressed when she continued to stare at him blankly.

"Are you saying that Jack's worried about your loyalties?" She scoffed at that. "Didn't you already prove that by helping him take the throne from his mother?"

Charlie fiddled with his fingers, shifting from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. "Well, he… he has a point, actually. His concerns are valid ones, even if I do not care for the result." He gestured at the cramped and dingy quarters.

"What are you talking about? You know you would never betray your king. _I_ know you'd never do that."

"For Alice of Legend to say that means a lot to me," he said.

"It's just Alice, Charlie," she corrected him gently, but he had started to pace and wasn't listening to her. He could only take half a dozen steps before he was forced to stop and change direction, making his movements look even more agitated.

"If only I could be _sure_, though," he continued.

"What do you mean?"

"It's just terribly confusing, the position I'm in now. I'm not really a knight, never having been officially knighted. I was, um, self-appointed, as you know, so in that way I owe loyalty to no one. However, having appointed myself as the _White_ Knight, technically speaking, I should be backing the White Queen. _However_-however, as you said, I fought for his majesty before, and I know him to be a decent man at heart, so should I not continue to support him as I have pledged to do? But that is the Red Knight's job, and as the king has found one now, having a red knight _and_ a white knight is not practical in the least. And then there's the matter of financial backing…"

He continued to mutter and pace, half his words dropping so low as to be unintelligible. Alice watched him with something akin to despair. The poor man was nothing but loyal, but he was also honest to a fault. She could just imagine Jack coming to him when the White Queen had first started to become a problem and asking the knight where he stood. And poor, confused Charlie had probably waffled and second-guessed just as he was doing now, and made Jack so nervous he had no choice but to lock him up.

Alice supposed they should be thankful that was _all_ Jack had done to him. He could have easily labeled the White Knight a traitor to the crown and had him executed. That's what his mother would have done. That Jack had shown mercy came as a sort of a relief. It was proof that the softer side of him she had known and remembered fondly still remained, even if was now weighted down with a heavy crown.

"And that woman!" said Charlie, voice suddenly pitching high and making Alice jump.

"What woman?" she asked, thrown off by the sudden change in topic.

He waved disgustedly at the place where the Red Knight had been standing only a few minutes before. "_That_ woman. Coming down here ever day with her questions, trying to wheedle things out of me. As if I would ever give away such secrets!"

"What is she asking you?"

"Knightly things. Where I trained. How many battles I've been in. What my strongest skills in combat are. Things of that nature."

Alice could see why he wouldn't want to answer such questions, considering that he had never formerly trained anywhere, had ran away from the only real battle he'd been in besides his bluff with the skeleton knights, and knowing it was an effort for him to even get his sword out of his scabbard, much less impress anyone with his mad fighting skills.

"She hasn't used the doctors on you, has she?" Alice asked, tipping her head to indicate the twins now muttering quietly several cells down from theirs.

Charlie stopped pacing and snorted. "Not at all. She's annoyingly polite about the whole thing. Even said she wanted us to be friends. _Friends!_ When we are sworn enemies!"

"Are you?"

He visibly faltered at that. "Well, she's a Red Knight, and I am a White Knight. It only follows that we would be… wouldn't it?" His uncertainty would have been adorable if he hadn't looked so distressed about it.

"I have no idea," answered Alice honestly. "Your guess is as good as mine. I thought I halfway understood Wonderland. Turns out I still don't know anything at all." It was depressing, really.

She found a thicker pile of rushes near the corner and took a seat. It looked like she was going to be there awhile. Charlie, looking equal parts sad and thoughtful, joined her.

"How did you come to be back here, Alice of Legend?" he asked. "I did not expect us to meet in this life again. And while I am overjoyed to see you, I fear the circumstances for it are not ideal."

Alice let her head drop back. She sighed and closed her eyes. "It's a long story."

"As you can see, I have plenty of time for a good long tale," said Charlie. Well, that was certainly true.

So Alice told him what had happened. It was both easier and harder to tell Charlie than it had been to tell Jack, for the White Knight was a far more sympathetic listener and Alice didn't feel obligated to sensor her emotions for his sake like she had for her ex. Being able to admit that she feared for Hatter instead of just giving the bare facts of his abduction was freeing, sharing her worries unknotting some of the horrible tension inside of her. But it also made the pain of it that much stronger, and by the end, she had shed more than a few tears, though she was quick to wipe each one away the second they fell.

Charlie seemed as confused as everyone else about what had happened. "The White Queen stole your harbinger? But… she should have her own. Several, if she needed them. Why would she feel the need to steal yours?"

"I have no idea," said Alice. "But now Jack won't even let me go after him! He says it's because the White Queen is too dangerous."

"Dangerous… yes, she is that," Charlie conceded. "She has kept to the old ways of Wonderland. Her magic abilities make my skills at the dark arts—which are not unimpressive!—look like parlor tricks. And after what happened to the duchess, the king is probably more cautious than he would be normally."

Until now, Alice hadn't even _thought_ to wonder about her ex's fiancé. "What happened to Duchess?"

The old knight's face scrunched, and then it twisted, and then he covered his mouth and shook his head and made some snorting-choking sound, and Alice realized in shock that he was fighting not to laugh.

He coughed, dropped his hand, and forced his expression in something graver, though his lips still twitched. He cleared his throat. "It's lamentable, truly, and not funny in the least. I shouldn't laugh, but…" But he did. Again.

"Charlie!" Alice exclaimed. "What happened to her?"

"Well, she's—" Chuckle, snort. "—been turned into—" Snort, chuckle. "—a bit of a—" snort. "—a swine."

"A _what_?" gasped Alice.

"Yes-yes, it's as a I said. Or, as you heard."

"Jack didn't mention anything about that!"

"Well I should think not!" wheezed Charlie. "Who wants it to get around that your fiancé has been turned into a hog?"

"How did _you_ find this out?"

"The Red Knight informed me about it."

"Why would she tell you?"

That got him sober again. He admitted grudgingly, "No doubt another vain attempt to gain my trust. _As if a bit of gossip could sway me!_" He yelled it in defiance, as if the Red Knight were still near enough to hear it.

Alice struggled to absorb this new information. She couldn't say she liked Duchess, but the woman had seemed to genuinely care about Jack, and after everything was said and done, Alice did not begrudge them whatever relationship they decided to have together. If Duchess could accept all of Jack, including the parts that Alice hadn't been able to, and love and support him in spite of—or even because of—all of those things, then more power to her.

But now she was a pig. Because of the White Queen. The same woman who now had Hatter. Though Duchess's fate better explained Jack's high-handed reticence to let Alice leave, knowing that Hatter was now at the mercy of such a powerful and twisted person only made her more determined to go after him—if only she could figure out how.

Alice stood, though she knew very well there was nowhere to go. She wandered over to the bars that separated their cell from the empty one next to it and leaned against them, dangling her arms through. She needed an escape plan. Charlie had a lot of things in here. Maybe they could fashion something? Put his part-time inventoring to some use? If they could make a skeleton key or a lock pick, maybe something to use against the Red Knight…

A quiet scuffling noise came from the neighboring cell. Alice looked up—and choked on a scream. A woman's face stared back at her, not two inches away from her dangling hands, which Alice quickly yanked back through the bars, banging her elbow in the process. Bright red locks drooped around the woman's face, which was saggy in the way skin always became when too much weight is lost too quickly. She was wearing a shapeless red velvet dress that was badly frayed and had weird holes dotting it in patterns, as if she had plucked off every last piece of gold ornament that had decorated the cloth.

She grinned at Alice, eyes slightly unfocused, and gave a hissing laugh through her teeth. Alice stumbled back and nearly bowled over Charlie, who had come up behind her.

"My god," breathed Alice. "Is that—?"

Charlie nodded solemnly. "The Red Queen."

"Why is she here? What's… what's wrong with her?"

Charlie sighed. "She's been down here since her dethroning. There was a disagreement over whether she should be exiled or executed, and before a decision could be reached someone snuck some sort of Tea in with her meal that threw her into this… state. They still don't know who did it, or what kind of Tea it was. If it was meant to have this affect or if her emotional instability caused this reaction. But whatever the case, her execution has been postponed indefinitely."

"Did the Red Knight tell you all that?" asked Alice, and Charlie grumbled something she took as a yes.

The Red Queen was still staring at her.

"Troublesome girl," she muttered. "There's a troublesome girl in my dungeon. Someone notify the White Rabbit. I want her removed immediately. Immediately I say, or it's off with your head! _Off with your head!_ _I'M OFF WITH MY HEAD!_"

Alice and Charlie both stepped back at the shout, and the Red Queen cackled and skipped away, smacking her hand along the cell bars as she went.

"She's more than half mad now," whispered Charlie. "Maybe… three-quarters? They can't get an accurate measurement. It keeps fluctuating depending on her mood. Just try to ignore her the best you can. She stays quieter that way."

He gave Alice's shoulder a pat. "Would you like some tea, by the way? I have some leftover from lunch. It's a bit cold, but it always is down here."

He shuffled away without waiting for her answer, his mind already on finding the sugar and cream. Alice let him go, escape plan forgotten. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the woman now crouched in the corner of her cell, tittering at a ball of dust she had found.

"Don't be shy," the Red Queen told it. "Introduce yourself properly now. Open your mouth wider when you speak, I can barely hear you. And don't forget to curtsy. _Curtsy you impudent, child!_" She poked at the ball of dust, which shivered and rolled a few inches away before crumbling. "That's better. Now we can work on your croqueting skills. Tell me, how are you with flamingoes?"

"I'm terrible with them, actually," a voice from outside the cell answered. Alice blinked and looked over, but the Red Queen nodded as if it were the dust that had answered her.

"I thought as much. And hedgehogs? I suppose you're hopeless with them too, aren't you?"

"Hopelessly," Alice watched the Cheshire Cat say. It caught her eye though the bars and winked.

"Then what good are you? If you had any decency at all you would take yourself off! Off with your head! _Off with your head!_" And she proceeded to get up and stamp down on the pile of dust repeatedly, until, huffing and puffing, she collapsed backwards onto her bunk.

"Violent as ever," said the Cheshire, floating over to Alice's cell. _Floating_, not walking. "Madness certainly hasn't done anything for the dear Queen's temper, I see. How delightful."

"What are you doing here?" said Alice. The cat looked just as it had in her dream. Huge yellow eyes, a bulbous belly, purple-striped fur, and a head size that rivaled her own.

A crash came from behind her, followed by Charlie's exclamation, "Tea and crumpets, it's the Cheshire!"

The giant cat purred at him. "Indeed it is, White Knight. How nice of you to notice."

Charlie peered at him through the bars. "Extraordinary," he breathed, and the Cheshire puffed out his furry chest. "I haven't seen you in—"

"Longer than it is polite to say," said the cat.

Charlie snickered. "Quite."

"Are you here to get us out?" Alice asked hopefully.

"Why would I be?"

"Maybe because we're innocent?"

It rolled its eyes at her. "My dear, if I went around helping everyone in Wonderland just because they were innocent, why, I would never have time for tea again!"

"But you helped me before, in my dream."

"And look what you did with my help. You went and got yourself locked up in the Red King's dungeon. I supposed the Hatter was taken?"

Alice nodded stiffly. "Yes. But if you let us out, I can—"

But the Cheshire was already shaking his head. "Won't matter now. Even if you escape, he will reach the White Queen long before you can reach him."

Even though Alice had already known that was likely true, it didn't make hearing it any easier.

"I still have to go after him," she said.

"Do you? I daresay you don't. It's more a matter of 'wanting' to isn't it?"

"Same thing!"

"But it's not the same at all," argued the Cheshire. "Having and wanting are two entirely different things and should never be confused. The things you _have_ to do as opposed to the things you _want_ to do. The things you _have_ as opposed to the things you _want_. The things _others_ have that _you_ may want…"

"Are you trying to hint that you want something for letting us out?" said Alice.

"Trying? By your very question I think I have succeeded, don't you?"

"Fine, what is it?" The cat should know how little she had to barter with.

The Cheshire purred and rolled over in the air as if it were lazing on its favorite rug. "Hmm, a favor will do."

"A… favor," echoed Alice doubtfully. "What kind of favor?"

"The kind you will grant me at a future date, when I ask it of you," it said.

Here Charlie made a small noise of protest. "Alice of Legend—"

"It's just Alice, Charlie, please."

"Just Alice, I feel the need to caution you…"

"I know," she said. This deal was about as vague as it got. And deals made without full disclosure were usually risky ones with high prices and harsh consequences if you didn't deliver. But… "But Hatter needs me."

She looked the cat square in the eye. "All right. You've got yourself a free favor. As long as it's within my power," she added.

The Cheshire's grin stretched from ear to pointy ear. "Wonderful."

The cat dropped down so that it could reach the lock panel and pressed one pudgy paw against it. With a grating click, the cell door opened. Charlie rushed to don his armor.

Alice stepped out of the cell. She listened for any footsteps or yelling that would indicate someone had heard them let out, but there was nothing. So far, so good.

She watched as the cat floated further down the aisle. So did the Red Queen, who was up and pressed against the bars, staring intently.

"Now what are you doing?" asked Alice. She didn't like how close the cat was getting to the other lock panel. Not that it would… she was just being paranoid. But paranoia felt closer to common sense around here.

She followed it.

"I'm doing what I came here to do," came the reply. "I have other things to do than spend my time messing about with you, you know."

"And that is?"

The Cheshire was right in front of the Queen's cell now. Its grin grew impossibly wider.

_Oh no. No, no, no!_

Alice dived forward, yelling, "Don't!"

Too late. It pressed a paw against the lock panel. Alice heard the click. Her fingers closed around a roll of rough fur before it vanished along with the rest of the cat. Its smile lingered in her retinas like the afterimage of a camera flash. In her head she heard, _"Until next time, Alice of Legend."_

The cell door swung open. The Red Queen came to life, giving a happy clap and springing out to join a stunned Alice in the aisle. Charlie came charging out from his own cell, his armor rattling and clanging like a wind chime made from pots and pans. "Just Alice, what has happened?"

"Out of my way, Spindles!" cackled the Red Queen, and she barreled into him like a pro linebacker, knocking him into the cell bars opposite and making the entire dungeon echo with the sound of metal smashing against metal.

_Now_ there were footsteps. _And_ yelling.

The Red Queen took off.

"Time to go, Charlie!" Alice cried, and grabbing him by the edge of his chest plate, she started tugging him forward.

"But what about the Red Queen? She cannot be out!"

"The Suits will have to catch her." No way was she sticking around to try and wrangle the mad woman back into her cell. They'd all be caught then.

They ran passed the doctors. Alice heard the one say, still as calm as you please, "The prisoners are escaping," and the other reply stubbornly, "They can't be, nohow."

At the stairwell, the Queen took a sharp left, the turn barely visible because of the angle and the gloom. Above them were the frantic sounds of at least a dozen Suits descending. No escape that way.

"Follow the Queen!" Alice shouted at Charlie, and together they ran.

At the end of the hall, the Red Queen threw open a small, rickety wooden door and dashed through, Alice and Charlie right behind her. It led to another flight of stairs, these even narrower and with a deadly slant to them. Charlie fell behind as they raced up, and Alice was forced to stop and wait for him. Distantly, she could hear the Suits as they scrambled to figure out where they had gone.

"Come on, Charlie. You can do it," she encouraged in a frantic whisper as the White Knight huffed and puffed his way up.

When he had caught up to her, they hurried through another small door and abruptly found themselves outside, in the back of the palace. Though Alice couldn't have been inside more than a couple of hours, it was already sunset. Jack's comment about Time echoed back at her: _"I'm afraid it's gotten a tad overexcited, trying to rush things, you could say." _

She could now.

To their left was an impressive looking hedge maze, and to their right, an old croquet field. (Alice spotted several rusted wickets poking up from the overgrown grass.) And straight ahead, after about two hundred feet of exposed field—forest. Alice watched the dark ripple of a red hem disappear into the trees. For being locked up for a year, the woman was incredibly fast.

Alice pointed to the tree line. "Can you make it to there, Charlie?"

"Of course," came his immediate—if wheezing—response.

"Ok then. Let's go!"

They ran. Behind them, she heard the throbbing chug of an ascending Scarab.

"_Just—like—old times_," the White Knight panted from beside her, and when Alice glanced over at him, she found him smiling. For his sake, she forced herself to return it.

Yeah. Just like old times.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The knock on Jack's office door was soft, and Duchess's steps, when he told her to enter, were silent on the plush, white carpet. Her expression was somber, but that had been the usual of late, and if she was more somber then normal, well, Jack was too distracted to notice it.

As she came to stand in front of his desk, he looked up from what was now his third draft of his proposal to Dodo detailing the cleanup and restructuring of the Great Library and, eventually, public access to it, in order to give her an appreciative onceover. She was wearing a long, golden robe that covered her from wrists to ankles. Her hair, equally as smooth and shiny as the robe, was undone and flowed in big, gentle waves over her shoulders and down her back. Even in modest disarray, she was exquisite.

"Ah, Duchess," he greeted with a glance out the darkened window behind him. "It's late. Shouldn't you would be in bed?"

Her hands were clasped humbly in front of her, her head lowered the slightest bit in deference, but her gaze was direct and strong as ever.

"I have something I need to tell you."

Jack spotted a line where he had misspelled a word and he cursed, scratching it out. "Is it very important? I'm quite busy right now. I said I would have this thing finished by tomorrow and at this rate I'll be—"

"Yes," she interrupted him. "It's important."

It was as close as she'd ever come to demanding something from him, and because it was, Jack forced himself to set his pen aside.

"All right then. What is it?"

Out of nowhere, tears sprang into her eyes, the question they raised answered a second later when she said, "I can't marry you, Jack."

"I see." The Red King kept his expression stoic. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together across his chest. "This is because of the White Queen, isn't it? You're afraid of what she'll do. I told you, I'm going to take care of her. You don't have to worry."

The Duchess huffed brokenly and rolled her eyes, knocking a few tears free. "You think this is about being afraid? I've lived in fear _every_ d_ay_ for my entire life. Fear no longer has any bearing on my decisions."

"Then what? Cold feet? We _are_ a week away from the wedding. If you need something to calm your nerves, I can get a Suit to go down into the restricted Tea Stores and get you something."

"This isn't about my nerves either," she said, and he had to admit, she didn't look nervous. Sad, distant, resigned, but not nervous.

She smiled. It was hollow. "You get one more guess, Jack."

And when he thought about it, he knew he only needed one more.

His response came out a weary sigh. "_Alice_."

Duchess's head lifted, as if the name was a rising waterline and she was determined to keep herself above it.

Jack supposed he should have felt shame then, but irritation beat the softer emotion to the punch.

"It's been over six months, Duchess. And you knew about my feelings for her since the beginning. If it bothered you this much, why did you agree to marry me when I asked? Why wait until now?"

His anger seemed to spark her own. Her folded hands became fists. "Because I had _hoped_… after she left… that maybe things would change. But you cling to her memory so tightly, Jack, and I am _tired_ of waiting for you to let go. _Tired_ of watching you wake up in the mornings with that sad smile on your face because you had another sweet dream of _her_."

Duchess took a shaky breath and then released it. She forced her hands to loosen, though they only twisted back into the fabric of her robe.

"If you had never left, if you had never met her, and if I had never known what I was missing—what _we_ were missing—I doubt I ever would've cared that you didn't love me. But you did, and now I do, and I grow more ashamed of myself each day, knowing I am to marry you when I still have so little of your heart. It's too much, Jack. Nothing between us is changing. And if I marry you like this…" She shook her head. The tears were falling steadily now. "I'm sorry. I know it's selfish of me, and I know it will make things even harder on you, and that's the last thing I want, believe me. But… though I will always be your Duchess, until you can devote your heart entirely to me, your Duchess _only_ will I remain."

Jack watched her stand there, batting away tears with both hands and lashes, and his first thought, his _very first one_, was that he could command her to marry him, if he wanted to, if he wanted to force this. She would bend, because if push came to shove, she was a survivor and would do whatever it took to keep herself alive. It was how she had become Duchess to the Red Queen, and why, even when he'd thought her an enemy, he'd respected her for her determination to do what must be done. It was during moments like this he realized how much of his mother's son he was, and how easy it would be to slip. It didn't help that as a ruler, compassion was rarely a smart option anyway, if it was an option at all. But in this instance, for Duchess…

"All right," he heard himself say. "If that is what you want, I will make the announcement in the morning."

She was still crying when she thanked him, and still crying when she left the room. And then morning had come, to the screams of Duchess's maid, and telling people the wedding was off had no longer been necessary. After all, it wasn't like the king could marry livestock.

Snuffling noises pulled Jack out of his unhappy reverie. Duchess was sleeping fitfully on an oversized satin cushion next to his desk, her back hooves kicking and her flattened nose twitching as she dreamed. Even now, after all these months, he wasn't sure who the final joke was on. Him, her, or the White Queen.

There was an impatient rap on his door a moment before it was thrown open and the Red Knight entered. Her step wasn't rushed, but neither was it dawdling. Out in the hall Jack heard the distant clamor of Suits running amuck. He didn't need three guesses this time to know what had happened—not that the Red Knight wasted time with guessing games.

"Alice of Legend has escaped," she told him.

Less than four hours had passed since he'd had Alice arrested. That must be some kind of record. Her ability to break out of places with such ease was nothing less than extraordinary.

"She took the White Knight and the Red Queen with her."

Jack cut his knight a sharp look. "Are you sure? The knight I understand, but the queen?"

"A club said he saw them heading into the woods. I've already sent out twenty men on foot and two Scarabs to search for them, but without knowing where they're headed…."

"We know where they're headed," said Jack. "They're going after the White Queen."

"Well, yes, most likely. But it's not like they know where she is. Even _we_ haven't figured that out yet."

The Red King slammed his hands down on his desk and shoved himself up. He glared at his knight, who dropped her gaze at this dangerous sign of temper. "Is that supposed to reassure me? Your assumption that Alice of Legend will share our _incompetence_? An assumption, I might add, that is inexcusably naïve."

Duchess gave several distressed oinks in her sleep. Jack fought to soften his tone. "Have no doubts that if we do not find Alice, she _will_ find the White Queen. I'd stake my kingdom on it."

"Maybe… maybe it won't matter if she finds her," suggested the Red Knight, glancing up at him but making sure to avoid direct eye contact. "Alice turned _you_ down, after all."

Jack knew she didn't mean it to be a jibe, but it didn't do anything for his mood.

"No one turns the White Queen down," he said. "_No one_. And if she has the Hatter—" He didn't need to finish the sentence. If the queen had Hatter, she had the only bargaining chip she needed to ensure Alice's cooperation.

"Do you think that's why she took him? Because she knew Alice would follow?"

"If that were her only reason, then why not just kidnap Alice in the first place? No, the White Queen is playing the long game, and she wanted the Hatter specifically. Alice is just a lucky bonus. Although one she foresaw, I'm sure."

Duchess snuffled and squirmed so that she rolled onto her back. Jack knelt and placed a hand on her warm belly. The tiny hairs covering the pale pink flesh tickled his palm.

"Find Alice, Red Knight," he ordered. "Find her and bring her back."

"And the others?"

"With the White Knight, do what you have to."

"And the Red Queen?"

Once again, it came back to compassion. He had tried to show her that once. After word had came back that his father hadn't made it out of the Casino, he hadn't been able to bear the thought of losing his mother as well, such as she was. And there might have been some guilt mixed in there too. Guilt that he hadn't been the loyal son she wanted, the loyal son he should've been. But Wonderlanders had been all but screaming for her head, and they hadn't been interested in his alternate proposal of exile. As newly crowned king, the last thing he'd needed was to start out on bad terms with his subjects. It was going to be enough of a battle to get them to accept him without that.

So he'd had his mother secretly dosed with Tea, playing on all her worst emotions until she finally broke. And wasn't it in poor taste, he'd said, to kill a mad woman? Many still hadn't cared, but enough. Enough to stop her beheading. And now she was loose in Wonderland.

Compassion. It was so rarely smart. And it so rarely worked.

He rose, and he waited for the Red Knight to finally meet his eyes again before he gave his answer.

"Kill her."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Keeping up with the Red Queen proved impossible. Alice and Charlie were able to outrun the Suits thanks to their head start, and with the sun setting, it was dark enough to shield them from the Scarabs that chugged around in the skies above them, but matching the queen's pace was something else entirely.

Her speed and agility were unnatural. Being sickly and mad seemed to have only made her faster and spryer than before. Professional runners would've had a hard time outstripping her.

She darted ahead of them, fleet-footed as a deer, dodging the sharply barked trees with ease and skipping over the vine-entangled grasses that continuously tripped up Charlie and Alice. The red flashes of her dress became harder and harder to spot, vanishing to reappear a few minutes later to their left or to their right, but always ever farther ahead, ever harder to see. Eventually, she slipped from sight and did not emerge again, and they had to concede that they had lost her for good.

Charlie was the most upset about this. A mad, tyrannical queen could not be free to gallivant around Wonderland, he said. Who know what kind of havoc she would wreak? Alice agreed, but pointed out that there was really very little they could've done even if they had managed to catch up with her. And as far as Alice was concerned, the queen was Jack's problem, not hers. If the woman really became a serious issue, she'd deal with it then. _After_ she rescued Hatter.

"Which way now, Charlie?" she asked, stumbling over another upraised root and cursing as pain shot up her toe. The boots she'd been given were clearly for indoor use only. The leather was thin and without padding of any kind. She felt every pebble she stepped on and the evening cold had already seeped through and numbed her toes. It only added to the aches her feet were already suffering from her chase earlier.

"A little farther east, I think," said the White Knight, not sounding nearly as certain as Alice would've liked.

After losing the Red Queen, they had decided it best to head for Charlie's old camping grounds. It was risky, yes, as it would be an obvious place to search for them. But it was also the only place where they could get themselves properly geared up before heading on their way. They could only hope their head start would hold long enough for them to get there and gone before the others arrived.

"And then, we find the White Queen," whispered Alice, adding with a sigh, "Though I have no idea where to start looking."

Charlie heard her and made a loopy gesture in the air with his hand, replying matter-of-factly, "Oh, it's a simple enough thing to do. No need to fret."

That made Alice stumble over another root. She gaped at him. "You mean, you know how to find her?"

"Of course. All you have to do is follow the magic."

"Follow… the magic?"

"Precisely."

Alice could imagine perfectly what Hatter's reaction would've been if he were with them to hear that. He'd give her that look he always gave her when dealing with the White Knight—the one that was part amused, part exasperated—and his tone would be sardonic as he replied, "Follow the magic, of course! Why didn't _we _think of tha'? Brilliant as ever, Charlie. Really. But in case that doesn't work, if I might offer up a second suggestion…"

Unfortunately, that's where Alice's imagination died. Because though she could well guess his response to Charlie's plan and the fact that he would insist on having an alternate, more rational course of action, she did not have his crafty mind in order to come up with said "more rational" course. Charlie's plans were often nonsensical, Hatter's sharply logical, and she, well, she wasn't the type to plan at all.

Which meant it was the White Knight's plan or nothing.

"So how exactly do we follow this magic?" she asked.

"How do you mean?" Now Charlie looked confused. "Following is following. There is only one way to do it."

Well, as long as _he_ knew how to do it, then she guessed they'd be okay.

The ground dipped then. Alice grabbed onto a nearby tree branch to steady herself, while Charlie pinwheeled his arms to keep himself from toppling off balance and tumbling face-first down the steep slope. Alice grabbed the edge of his backplate with her free hand to steady him.

"It seems perhaps we went a bit _too_ far east," he said with an embarrassed cough. "We almost dumped ourselves right into the Dumping Grounds."

Alice peered down the tree-studded hill with interest, but too many branches blocked her view. "Dumping Grounds? Is that like a landfill?"

"It is indeed a land filled with… many things," said Charlie awkwardly. Making an abrupt about-face, he declared, "To the south, then!"

"Wait!" said Alice. "I think I hear voices."

"What? Do you?" Charlie cocked his head, lips pursing as he listened. "How odd. Nobody should be down there. No one comes to the Dumping Grounds—though I've heard rumors of the Red King petitioning to turn it into a proper memorial for people to visit."

"A memorial for garbage?" said Alice with a laugh, because that sounded ridiculous, even for Wonderland. But at Charlie's tense silence, her amusement faded. Alice looked at him solemnly. "Charlie, what exactly has been 'dumped' down there?"

"I-it matters not," he stuttered, starting once again to move away purposefully. But Alice found that it did matter, very much, and now she had the most terrible suspicion—one that only made her desire to know all the stronger.

She turned and started picking her way down the slope, using the trees and bushes as handholds and ignoring the White Knight's pleas for her to "Wait! Stop! Do not go down there!" The voices grew louder—though no clearer—and were soon joined with the sound of scraping shovels and displaced dirt. Behind her twigs snapped and armor clattered as Charlie followed after her, still pleading with her to cease her descent. But she didn't. She had to know.

The trees ended only feet before the ground did. Alice wrapped her arm around a sturdy spruce safely back from the drop-off and sucked in a breath as she took in the view with a horrified sort of awe.

Fifty feet below spread a wide, circular field, with thick, lush green grasses and wildflowers as big as her fists. The last of the day's light spilled over the edges of the protective rock walls like a golden-orange waterfall, casting a sliver of the meadow in brilliant relief while leaving the rest shrouded in the night's early shadows. And scattered throughout it, in both the darkened edges and glowing spans of sun-sliced ground, were skulls. Dozens and dozens of them. Most—in the places where light reached first and stayed longest—the skulls were completely bare, bleached free of any remnants of character. But in the shadier places, Alice could see some that still retained traces of flesh. Of tangled hair. Of lips parted in silent screams and eyes still pleading for a mercy that would never be found.

Heavy, gloved hands fell onto her shoulders, trying gently to pull her back, but Alice would not be moved.

"Who—" she said hoarsely, though she knew even before Charlie answered.

"The Red Queen's victims. Those beheaded by the crown." The knight's sigh was mournful. "She had the bodies burned, but the heads, she sent here."

"To the Dumping Grounds."

"Yes."

Sorrow, disgust, rage—the feelings cycled through her so fast that the end result was a complete mental numbness that was impossible to process. She had known the Red Queen was evil, that she had done cruel, vile, unforgivable things. But until this moment, Alice had not realized that cruelty had been to such an extent. Despite all she had been told, all she had seen, it had not truly registered. Until now.

She stared down at the field, only noticing then the four men wielding shovels and buckets, following the last of the light as they dug at the ground. They conversed in quiet, disgruntled voices. Their grumbles echoed up easily, though their exact words remained indistinct. They weren't Suits, but there was something about them that made Alice think they weren't just ordinary citizens either. The way they held their shovels showed that they were unused to manual labor, and the way they carried themselves with such haughty stiffness hinted that these were men of higher than normal rank.

She looked about and spotted several white lab coats in an abandoned pile a few feet away from them. The same kind of coat her father had worn. But why would there be scientists here?

"What are they doing?" wondered Alice, grateful to have something to focus on besides the tragedy spread out in front of her.

"I do not know," said Charlie quietly. "But I do not think it wise for us to stay to find out. We must make haste, before the others catch us up."

Once more, he tried to pull her away. Alice didn't resist this time.

The climb back up the slope was even harder. And Charlie, despite his hurry to be off, was so out of breath he was forced to rest a moment before continuing on. Alice waited in silence, no longer concerned about her aching feet. It felt petty in comparison to what she had just witnessed. The Red Queen truly was a monster. Alice would never have fathomed such a thing, if she hadn't seen with her own eyes.

_And I let her get away._

Charlie's upset at having lost her made more sense now, and guilt jabbed Alice hard in the gut. Not that it changed the fact that she'd had her own concerns at the time, evading capture and the like. But even so, if she had known, maybe she would have found the motivation to try harder than she had to catch her.

Alice pushed away the regret. She couldn't change what had already happened and she definitely couldn't afford to waver or go back to look for the queen. May Wonderland forgive her, but Hatter still came first; her priorities would not be changed. When he was safe, then she would help however she could to re-catch the mad queen. But only once Hatter was safe, and not a second before.

It made her wonder, though, what the Cheshire thought it was doing, freeing someone like that. There was no arguing that it had been purposely done.

_'I'm doing what I came here to do.'_

But that still begged the question: Why? On a whim? Had the cat taken it into its head to throw Wonderland into more chaos for reasons unknown? Or had it been ordered to do it by someone? And if so, to what end?

The sun had long tucked itself away by the time they reached the Kingdom of the Knights. They made their way to Charlie's camp cautiously, using the ruins they passed as cover and listening hard for any sound of Scarabs.

They found the camp empty. Charlie grabbed a pair of packs and together they stuffed them with clothes, blankets, and other various supplies. The only thing they lacked was food. Charlie's stores were inedible, having gone bad in the intervening months he'd been in imprisoned, but he assured Alice they would be able to hunt and forage well enough as they went.

When that was done, they collected the horses. A few click's of the White Knight's tongue had Arthur and Guinevere galloping over. Arthur gave a happy whinny, butting his master with his nose as he searched his person for any hidden apples or carrots. Guinevere also pressed close, chuffing into Alice's hair. For being on their own for months, they seemed healthy and friendly as ever.

Charlie fetched the tack, and they set about bridling and saddling the two equines. Alice gave a sigh of relief as she swung herself up onto Guinevere. No Suits had come and no Scaraba had decended. They were actually going to make it out of here in the clear.

Charlie started to mount Arthur, but his boot made it only halfway to the stirrup before he dropped his leg, exclaiming in a hushed voice, "Oh, I almost forgot!"

To Alice's dismay, he took off back into the depths of the camp. She hissed his name, but he didn't hear her and she didn't dare speak any louder. What was he doing? They had everything they needed, didn't they?

He reappeared almost immediately, cradling something in his hands. In the dark, Alice couldn't make out what it was—not until he came over and held it out to her.

Her heart clenched.

It was Hatter's hat.

"I thought your harbinger might want it back," said Charlie. "Not that he deserves it, mind you. Getting himself kidnapped and putting you through all of this. I plan to see him well repaid for your pains, Just Alice, fear not on that account. But his hat, I've decided to return." He held the hat up higher.

With unsteady hands, Alice reached out and took it. It really was Hatter's old hat. The one he had followed her around Wonderland wearing, and which she had rarely seen him without until he'd come to her world. She turned it over in her hands.

"Hatter told me he lost this when he came through the Looking Glass. How did you get it, Charlie?"

"I found it in the woods one day."

"The woods? How'd it wind up there?"

"Things lost inside the Looking Glass rarely stay lost within it," explained Charlie. "Eventually what's lost will appear on one side or the other. It's just a matter of time."

"Speaking of time," said a voice from behind them. "I'm sorry to say you two are out of it."

Charlie stumbled back. Alice twisted in her saddle to see the Red Knight appear from around a crumbling statue of a rook. In the night, her red armor looked black.

"We don't want to fight you," said Alice.

"All the easier for me then." She turned to Charlie. "Though I was looking forward to finally seeing you in action, White Knight. A pity."

Alice changed tactics.

"It's two against one," she pointed out, trying to sound confident and intimidating as Charlie drew his sword. "The odds aren't exactly in your favor."

The Red Knight smiled and held up her hand. At the silent command, twenty Suits materialized from the shadows, each one of them holding a gun.

Alice's stomach dropped. Their odds of winning had just gone from decent to impossible.

"How about now?" the Red Knight asked.

Looking back on it, Alice couldn't say who reacted first. It seemed almost like a sudden and instanteous eruption of chaos. Alice made to dismount at the same moment Charlie lunged at the Red Knight, yelling, "Retreat, Guinevere!" and causing the horse to bolt for the trees, Alice instinctively clinging so as not to topple off, hands over feet. Arthur whinnied and reared, striking several Suits with his sharp hooves. Shots went off. Hot pain exploded in Alice's shoulder and neck, an itching sting that immediately made her brain fuzzy and her vision swim. She heard the clang of swords coming together and Charlie yelp. That was bad, but her muddled brain couldn't figure out why.

She yanked on the reins, her words slurring as she ordered Guinevere to stop, but the horse didn't so much as slow. Branches slapped at her as they barreled through the trees, but Alice barely felt it. There was a terrifying numbness that was spreading fast throughout her body, turning her neck and shoulders numb, then her arms and hands, all the way to the tips of her fingers. Her head lolled and she slumped over in her saddle, the reins slipping free from her slackened grip to swing freely about the horse's neck.

_Have to get back_… But even as the thought went through her mind, she couldn't remember why. Get back to… what? Where? Was she supposed to be... doing something? But, she was so _tired_. She felt like she had been fighting sleep for days. If she could just close her eyes... just for a few seconds... maybe then...

The world was quiet now. All Alice could hear were Guinevere's snorting breaths and the beating of the horse's hooves as she carried Alice away. The numbness had reached her waist now, and it spread down her thighs, passed her calves. It became impossible to hold on, impossible to care, and Alice found heself slipping from the saddle the same way she slipped from consciousness—without a fight.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Just a quick thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review. In the next chapter, Hatter finally makes an appearance, yay! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It had been raining that night, Hatter remembered. A positive downpour; the worst they'd had in a while. It didn't rain often in Wonderland, but when it did, it was a serious situation for those who lived in the city. Even light showers could be dangerous. You had to watch out for debris falling with the runoff from the higher levels—Hatter himself had been concussed by a mailbox one time—and when it stormed, things became downright deadly. The streets would flood, taking on currents that could easily sweep a person off their feet and over the edge of the walkways, which by the end of the first hour turned into lethal, multi-story waterfalls. No one, no matter how far down in the city you were, ever survived that trip. If the fall didn't kill you, the crush of the water would. Hatter's teashop was even more dangerous to visit than the usual places, because you had to cross a bridge in order to get there—a bridge that had no rails to keep you from being spewed over the sides should you lose your footing on the way across.

Only the most desperate for Tea ever came on those days. They'd stumble in, twitchy and soaked to the bone, begging for whatever emotion it was they were out of. As much as Hatter disliked dealing with such customers, there was no denying the benefits of having them. The more desperate they were, the more he could get away with charging them, which meant more food and supplies for the Resistance. And at the same time, it increased his standing with those at the Casino, since they saw his bad weather business dealings as proof of his dedication and loyalty to the crown (no matter that it was at no real risk to _him_, the stupid buggers).

So that was why, when Dormie came shuffling into his office that night, agitated and rambling about a customer, Hatter had agreed to see them. By then, it had been raining for well over three hours. Whatever this customer wanted, they had to want badly. And that meant that even if no one else visited, he still had a chance to end the day having made a substantial profit. Dodo would be happy and so would the Red Queen. A win-win. Not the ideal outcome, of course, but for a Hatter who wanted to help the Resistance _and_ keep his head, it was the best he could do.

"By all means, show them in," he said to Dormie, jumping up from his chair and circling around the front of his desk, snatching his hat from off the rack as he passed by and popping it on, setting it at a jaunty angle over his messy hair. His assistant nodded and scurried away.

Hatter shook out his sleeves, straightened a ring that had slipped sideways on his finger, and struck a pose he'd slowly been perfecting over the past five years of doing this job. Hip against the desk with his hands loosely gripping the edges, shoulders slightly slouched, legs extended, ankles crossed. Casual yet collected; the perfect balance. You didn't want to come across so intimidating that people were too scared to do business with you, but at the same time you needed to make sure they remembered who was the one in control, lest they forget who needed who. It was a pose that had never failed him before and it wouldn't have failed him then—if the person who had stepped into his office been anyone besides the White Queen.

He recognized her right away, though until that moment he had never before seen her in person. Over the centuries, she had been depicted in a countless number of works, from children's picture books to historical texts. In fact, Hatter had caught Dodo reading about her from both sources on more than one occasion when he'd come to drop off provisions, and he was never able to resist ribbing the older man for his hopeless crush, even if it did always lead to a pistol in his face and a swift boot from the Great Library.

Hatter had to say, neither the pictures nor the many flowery descriptions had done the woman justice. It was as if the pictures had all been painted in washed out pastels when she was clearly made up of bold colors. And the descriptions, while getting across her beauty in a dizzying array of flattering similes, had failed to note the core aspect that made her beauty so shocking. Namely, the predator-like aura she wore around her like a cloak, enhancing her allure while at the same time giving it a dangerous edge. This was no dainty queen, for all that she was slim and delicately featured.

"Are you the one they call Hatter?" she asked.

He nodded dumbly. She was the same height as him and yet she stood in a way that made her seem feet taller. Hazel eyes, unnaturally bright, bored into him, sizing him up and cutting him down in one hot glance. Her skin was the color of tea with only the slightest bit of cream added to it. _But_ _no sugar_, Hatter thought irreverently.

She pushed back the hood of her cloak, revealing a free-flowing mane of hair beneath it, and rude though it was, Hatter stared. Her hair was, in a word, stunning. Long and white and curled at the ends. There was nothing to compare it to. Snow? Starlight? Those clichéd descriptions didn't do justice to such pureness. Every strand shone with health and strength. If someone told him it had prehensile abilities, he would have believed it without doubt.

"You… you're…" he stuttered.

"You recognize me?" Her smile was pleased, dignified, and sharp all at once. "Wonderful. That means we can skip introductions and get right down to business. _After_ you offer me some tea, of course. That is a courtesy that should never be skipped. Really, you should've asked that before anything else. Where _are_ your manners? Hidden in your _other_ hat, perhaps?"

Hatter shook his head, had _been_ shaking his head the whole time she'd been speaking. Because as quickly as he'd recognized her, his mind rebelled against it. This had to be a trick. She was a fake. She had used something—magic, make-up, a combination of the two—to impersonate the late queen. There was no possible way…

"You can't be her," he said, pushing away from his desk with sweaty hands and circling around it—for Time, for cover, for a need to move when there was nowhere to go. He supposed he could have made a break for it out the back door, but another glance at those hawk-like eyes and he decided he didn't quite dare. "The White Queen's been dead almost two hundred years," he said, as much to himself as to her. "Ever since the Red Queen first rose to power. Everyone knows that."

"Everyone knows what the ruling Hearts have told them," she corrected scoffingly. "Surely you've been working with the Resistance long enough to know by now that not everything touted as truth really is such?"

Of course he had. Of course he knew. But there were still limits. And the idea that the White Queen lived—and furthermore, was currently standing in his office as if it were perfectly reasonable to be there—was another thing entirely.

"Might we carry on with business while you are deciding?" she asked when his only response to her query was another incredulous shake of his head. "I really have no time to dawdle here while you struggle with your disbelief."

"What business could you possibly have with me?" he said, reaching over to clutch the back of his chair. "You're clearly no' here to purchase Tea."

She laughed. It was a full-throated cackle of pure amusement and it raised the hair on the back Hatter's neck. "Goodness, no. Actually, I came here to give you something."

"Give me something?"

She made a curt gesture in the air with her hand, and that was when Hatter realized she had not come alone. Four other men stood a respectful distance behind her, one holding a long, leather case. It said something about the woman's presence that he had not noticed them until that moment, for they were not the sort of men that he would normally overlook. All were tall and built, with colorful, layered outfits that he wouldn't have minded trying on himself. One of them was even wearing a nice bowler.

The one holding the case stepped forward. By his lined face and graying hair, he was significantly older than the other three men, who all appeared to still be enjoying the later stages of youth. One look at his hardened expression, however, and Hatter knew that in a fight, _this_ was the man to beat. Well, besides the woman herself, who Hatter suspected was ten times more capable than all of them combined. But then, she was claiming to be the White Queen. It only stood to reason that she would also be powerful.

Without a word, the older man held out the case to her. From the folds of her cloak she pulled out a small golden key. She unlocked the case, re-pocketed the key, and pushed open the lid, letting out a sigh of satisfaction as she did so. Hatter tried to see what was in it, but the angle was wrong and her back was in the way. He let go of his chair and crept a few cautious steps closer, but halted abruptly when she reached in and pulled out a full-length sword.

She looked up, caught his stunned expression, and smiled a smile that was full of knowing and pride. "You know what this is, don't you?"

How could he not? As many pictures and books there were of the long lost queen, there were easily as many about the most famous weapon in all of Wonderland.

"It's the Vorpal sword," Hatter breathed, drinking in the sight. So understated, the design, almost primitive, and yet more magnificent than any sword made before or since. Its hilt was plain, without any ornamentation at all, not a single etching or jewel. Its blade was abnormally thick but still deadly sharp at its edges and point. The size and weight made it look unwieldy to the point of being impractical, but the woman held it up as easily as if it were a goblet she was preparing to make a toast with. And that's when Hatter knew—

"You really are the White Queen."

She bowed her head in acknowledgement.

"And you want to give this to me?" he asked, pointing to the sword.

"I do."

The deal was too good, the chance to own something so treasured too wonderful. Beneath his awe, suspicion stirred.

"Why me?"

Her eyes narrowed at his sudden curtness. "Because someone is coming soon. Someone very special who will need this sword if she is to have any chance of surviving her trip here."

Hatter felt himself relax a bit. So she wanted him to play the middle man. Even the White Queen, it seemed, had his number. At least it put him back on familiar ground. Still...

"Why no' hold onto it and give it to her yourself? Surely tha' would be the safest way."

"Are you admitting that you will abscond with the sword should I leave it in your possession?" the White Queen asked, sounding not the least bit worried or affronted. "Do not worry, I've already taken your, hmm, _capitalistic tendencies_ into account, and have come up with a suitable safeguard should the temptation to make a trade or sale in the interim prove too big a temptation for you."

"You distrust wounds me," said Hatter, though inwardly he wondered exactly how she planned to safeguard such a thing, and was both amused and impressed that she had thought to do so. And a little insulted. But mostly amused and impressed. "I meant no such thing by my question," he assured her. "I was merely curious as to why you picked me, is all. It seems like a pretty important job to leave to just anyone. Even your boys there should be more than capable, shouldn't they? No' that I'm unwilling to do it, with the right compensation. "

"My _boys_ and I have other things to attend to," she told him. "I am going on a trip, you could say, and will not be around to see this done personally, nor will they. And you needn't fret about compensation. I think you'll find your reward for doing this to be more than adequate."

"Will I?" _He_ would be the judge of that. "You still haven't answered my question, though."

One finely shaped eyebrow arched in silent inquiry.

Hatter dropped all pretense of light-heartedness and faced her fully. On this point, he would suffer no lies or attempts to mislead him. He hadn't survived all these years because he'd had blind faith in people. He'd survived the way anyone in Wonderland who wanted to live to a decent age survived: by trusting no one.

And so he asked again. "Why me?"

The White Queen matched his solemnity. "Because you are the Hatter."

"People have been known to call me that," he conceded. "But I don't see what that has to do with anythin'."

"It has _everything_ to do with it. You have been officially titled as the Hatter." Her gaze went distant. More softly, she added, "And Alices always find their Hatters."

"Alices?" Hatter frowned, uneasiness joining his suspicion. "You don't mean… You can't think that Alice—_the_ Alice—is coming here? She was an Oyster. Long dead and gone by now in her world."

"I assure you, she is coming. And she will need this sword by her side when she arrives." The White Queen reached out to him. "Now, your hand."

But Hatter didn't give it. In fact, he backed up a couple steps. He was starting to think he knew why the Red Queen had been able to get away with pretending her fellow highness had died so easily. Because the White Queen was not, in fact, completely sane. She thought Alice was returning to Wonderland? Impossible.

"You're hand," she said again.

"No," he replied, backing up a few more steps. "No, I don't think so."

Her expression darkened. "You think to defy me?"

"I think," said Hatter carefully, "That you have the wrong guy. You said you needed the Hatter. Well, that's not me."

"Of course it's you!" she snapped. "Is that not what everyone calls you? Is that not what you call yourself?"

"But it's just a nickname!" he exclaimed. "For cryin' out loud, I'm not _the_ Hatter! My great-uncle, _he's _the one you're looking for. He's the one the stories were written about, not me. And he's been dead for nearly as long as Alice has surely been, so—"

"Yes, he was a very good Hatter," the queen agreed dismissively, "his unfortunate madness aside. But make no mistake, _you_ are the Hatter now. And you _will_ take this sword and see that Alice is protected by it."

"You're crazy," Hatter said bluntly, then wished he'd bitten his tongue at the look of cold fury that swept over her face. _Now_ was the time to make a break for that back door, he decided.

He made to run, but the queen's well-dressed lackeys must have guessed his intentions, because they were on him in a blink. He punched and kicked, but though he'd been in his fair share of brawls over the years, these men were well trained and deadly determined. He clocked one just as another grabbed him around the shoulders from behind, and then the older guy appeared in front of him swinging his carrying case, and pain exploded in Hatter's head. He didn't even register falling. One minute he was up, the next he was on the ground trying to make his vision un-blur and his limbs do something besides tremble.

The White Queen crouched down in front of him, sword in hand. Her expression was stern and implacable. "Enough," she told him, and plucked up his right hand, holding it with just the tips of her fingers. "Relax now. This may hurt a bit."

"What are you—" But that was as far into the question as Hatter got before pain erupted up his arm, stealing away his breath. The throbbing in his head didn't even begin to compare. This pain was excruciating. Agony, plain and simple.

He tried to pull free from her grip, but found his body wouldn't cooperate with him. It was as if she'd taken away his will to struggle. And all the while, it felt like someone was shoving a blade up his arm, from his wrist, passed his elbow and all the way into his shoulder. Like his muscles were being cut apart, his tendons sliced, his veins slashed. He thought he'd pass out from the pain—_welcomed_ it—but he stayed conscious. From his collapsed position, he had a clear view of the sword hanging down in front of him. If he'd been able, he would have grabbed it and run Her Highness through, royalty be damned. It was a matter of survival, because she was killing him; she had to be. Death was the only thing that could follow such excruciating pain.

The sword flickered before him. At first, Hatter thought his vision was going. But no, it was just the sword that was becoming harder to see. It was turning transparent, and becoming more so by the second. Fading away.

_What in the hell?_

Impossibly, the pain intensified, flaring like poisoned fire through his blood, and Hatter only half-managed to choke back a scream. The sword flickered once more and then vanished completely. At the same time, his pain also began to dissipate, though aftershocks kept him thoroughly incapacitated. He managed to turn his head just enough to meet the White Queen's gaze. She didn't look away.

"It is done," she told him quietly, letting go of his hand. "Now, there is only to wait. I wish the both of you luck."

Hatter would have responded with something deservedly offensive to that, but he was too busy—finally!—passing out in order to do so.

When he came to, the rain had stopped and the White Queen and her men had gone. His arm no longer hurt, and when he checked, there were no bruises or cuts marking his skin at all.

It might have been reassuring to some; it didn't reassure Hatter.

He headed out front, finding his assistant passed out at his podium like usual. When the small man didn't stir at his increasingly loud shouts for him to wake up, Hatter raised his fist and smacked it down on the podium's glass top, gavel-style, to scare him awake.

The glass shattered and the steel support base crumpled like paper. Dormie toppled over with a squeak while momentum almost had Hatter face-planting in the sharp remains of his destruction. He gaped. He hadn't meant to hit it that hard. He'd pounded on Dormie's podium plenty of times in the past and had never put so much as a crack in it. So why all of a sudden was it so weak?

No, he thought as he stared at his hand in dawning realization. It wasn't the podium that had suddenly become weaker. Rather, it looked liked _he_ had just become a whole lot stronger.

It had taken a little while for him to get used to it, to learn how to call up the extra strength and how to hold it back. But slowly his comfort with it grew, and after meting out several rather spectacular beatings to some of his more violent customers who'd come to his shop looking to use force as their method of trade, word starting getting around. His arm even received the honor of getting its own name: the Sledgehammer. Knowing the _true_ weapon that allowed him to deal so much damage, Hatter found the name amusing. If only they knew.

And so time had past, and nothing much changed. Hatter thought about the White Queen from time to time, usually accompanied by a half-smile and a shake of his head, maybe a toast in her honor if he happened to be drinking. His opinion about her sanity and the reasons for choosing him never changed, but like his rainy day customers, there were perks to the exchange he couldn't refute.

And then Alice had come.

He'd told Ratty the same thing he'd told the White Queen: She wasn't Alice. She couldn't possibly be _the_ Alice any more than he was _the_ Hatter. Age aside, the young woman looked nothing like their past savior. Hadn't acted like her either. She was just an unlucky Oyster with a coincidental name. He'd planned to take her to Dodo, use her ring as payment for the man's help—with a cut for him, too, of course—save her boyfriend if possible, and then get her the hell out of Wonderland before rumor of an escaped Oyster named Alice could get out and send the populous into a panic. There'd been no reason to tell her about his arm, and no reason to confide in her about anything besides how they might get her home.

Of course, none of that had worked out. For the better mostly, in his opinion, but he still never got around to telling her the truth about his arm or about the White Queen. About… so many things. And after leaving Wonderland, well, he couldn't say why he hadn't come out with it all then. Alice had certainly asked him often enough. She was forever trying to slip in questions about his past whenever she thought he wasn't paying attention or when the mood was particularly relaxed. He wanted to blame his hesitation on some lingering magic the White Queen had cast on him when he hadn't been looking, but he knew that wasn't it. It was him. It was entirely his own issue.

And now it was too late to tell Alice anything.

Hatter pulled himself from his regretful memories and faced the woman on the couch opposite him. The White Queen looked exactly same as the last time he'd seen her, still that perfect mix of dangerous beauty and cool, royal dignity that left him anxious in a wholly unpleasant way. She sipped tea from a small china cup, watching him like a predator with prey it didn't find particularly appetizing but was debating devouring anyway, and Hatter was grateful that he was at least back to his normal size for this surprise reunion. He had a feeling he was going to need every advantage he could get.

Tea service was set out on a low wooden table between them. His own cup had already been filled and prepared to his specifications by a serene looking servant, but he was disinclined to drink it (for obvious reasons). Surreptitiously, he tested the metal bands linking his wrists together. Even when he applied all his strength, they wouldn't even bend. More of Her Highness's magic at work.

A throat cleared itself behind him. Hatter glanced over at the far corner where the queen's four henchmen stood at the ready. There were older now, and scruffier. They had also lost their sense of style. The oldest one who had made the noise shot him a warning look. Ah. He hadn't been surreptitious enough, apparently. Hatter cocked an eyebrow and shot him the finger—an Oyster gesture Alice had taught him that he enjoyed immensely. Even if the old crony didn't know _exactly_ what it meant, he could surely deduce the implication. By the man's dark scowl, he did.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Hatter."

Hatter twisted back around. The White Queen set down her cup, the clink of china echoing in the spacious sitting room. Her movements were precise and unhurried. As fast as Time had flown by during his forced trip here, now it seemed to have stopped completely.

"You should not have left Wonderland like you did," the queen told him, her voice soft. "Did you think to escape with the sword after all? Even after you assured me you would do no such thing?"

"That's no' why I left," said Hatter. "I didn't even think about it. Not until afterwards."

The White Queen met his gaze and held it. "You have no idea how upset I was when I heard. What if we weren't able to bring you back? The sword would be lost forever in the Oyster world. Our most precious piece of history, our greatest weapon ever created, gone."

"Is that why you had me brought me here? You want to take the sword back?" He'd suspected as much the moment he'd recognized her men.

"Eventually, yes. I was going to just wait until your death, when the sword would return to me naturally. But that will not happen if you are in that magic-less, Oyster world. And since I can no longer guarantee when, and more importantly, _where_ you will meet your end, I will have to extract it beforehand. We can't very well have you running off with it again, can we?"

"But you're lettin' me keep it," clarified Hatter. "For the time bein'."

"Yes. You may have need of it yet, and I have need of you alive."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The White Queen plucked up a bite-sized piece of apple tart from off a tray and held it up. "It means that I am not sure what the outcome of forcibly removing the sword from your arm will be," she said. "And since you are essential to my plans, we have no choice but to hold off for now." She turned the small dessert this way and that, inspecting it from all sides. A few crumbs broke off and fell onto the table.

"What plans? And what do you mean, you're not sure of the outcome?" demanded Hatter. "What kinda outcome are we talkin' about here?"

"At best, you'll suffer some muscle atrophy. At worst, the removal could send you into shock and kill you." Finished her inspection, she popped the tart into her mouth, closing her eyes as she savored the taste.

Hatter stared at her, his mind reeling. Removing the sword could kill him? So much for thinking he could just hand it over and be on his way. He should've known things couldn't be so straightforward. Living away with Alice for so long had made him too trusting. He was going to have to wise back up quickly or he was never going to get out of this alive.

The White Queen either didn't notice his upset or didn't care, because she finished her tart with a delicate swallow and went on. "That is why we will proceed with our other matter of business and return to this problem later. Priorities, dear Hatter, are a must during times of war."

War? The thought of being at war again scared him almost as much as the thought of dying. The last time they had been at war—_truly_ at war, not just that brief coup Alice had headed—Wonderland had barely survived it. There was a reason Wonderlanders had been so susceptible to the Teas when the Red Queen had introduced them. When your world lay in pieces around you, your family and friends lost, who wouldn't turn to a drug if it made you forget all that?

"And this other matter of business… I assume you're referring to these plans of yours?" Hatter said. "These plans where I am, for some reason, essential?"

"Yes."

When she said no more than that, instead opting for another sip of tea, Hatter bit back his frustration and said, "Care to fill me in on it?"

"Whether she _cares_ to fill you in on it isn't the right question," a voice said from beside him. "It's whether she _will_ or not that's your true concern."

Hatter looked over and stiffened. Because what he was facing was a mouth. _Just_ a mouth, free floating with nothing attached to it. It was twisted up in a manic grin and filled with teeth, all of them sharp and too close for comfort. He edged back in his seat.

"Although even then, asking 'will she, won't she,' is a coy way to going about it," the mouth continued. "Better to take a more direct approach; cut right to the heart of the matter. 'What are these plans of yours?' you could ask. Or, 'What does my involvement entail?' Truly, your word skills are rudimentary. I expected more from the Hatter."

"He was trying to be polite, I'm sure," said the White Queen airily.

"Is it not possible to be both polite _and_ direct?"

"For the Hatter specifically, or for people in general?"

"The Hatter would bungle it, I have little doubt. But for others, it is a question worth pursuing, don't you think?"

The queen flicked her fingers. "I think I grow tired of this exchange. Reveal yourself properly now, if you would, Cheshire. You know how much I detest seeing only that monstrous grin of yours."

As Hatter watched, two bright eyes appeared, followed by a fuzzy, bewhiskered face. An overlarge body complete with paws tipped with deadly long claws shimmered into sight, and with final a swish, so did a tail. The mythical Cheshire Cat, in the flesh.

"To be both polite and direct: is this better, your majesty?" it asked.

"Quite," she said. "I assume your appearance here means you've done as I've requested?"

The cat nodded. "The Red Queen has been freed and escaped successfully. She should be here in the next day or so."

The White Queen smiled. "Marvelous."

Hatter was not so thrilled. The Red Queen was still alive? Damn Jack to hell, mother or not, what was he playing at, keeping that kind of dangerous person around? And now she was free, and coming to team up with the White Queen? For _war_?

As if this news wasn't bad enough, the Cheshire then added, "Alice is on her way as well."

The White Queen's smile turned positively luminous. "How delightful! I'm so glad she's decided to join us. Keep an eye out for her, will you?" she said to her men. "And let me know that the moment that she arrives."

In unison, they replied, "Yes, your majesty."

Cold dread filled Hatter's gut. He wasn't surprised to hear that Alice was following him. He'd known she would. He knew her, he knew how far she'd gone for Jack, and he flattered himself to think she liked him at least a bit more than she liked that heartless Heart. But he couldn't let her come here. He had to escape and intercept her before she could do something rash and dangerous and get herself killed trying to save him. If the White Queen hurt her…

His fears must have shown on his face, or maybe the queen's powers were even stronger than he'd thought, because she said to him, "Do not worry, no harm will come to Alice. The opposite, in fact. In truth, you should be more worried about yourself, since I'm sorry to say, these next couple days are going to be rather unpleasant for you."

At that, the queen's men stepped forward and the Cheshire Cat ghosted into nothingness. Hatter jumped to his feet, but with his hands bound, there was very little he could do to fight them off. In short order they had him secured, and at their highness's command, led him away.

A few minutes later, the Cheshire Cat reappeared on the abandoned couch, grin now absent. It took up Hatter's neglected tea and added more cream.

"It looks like it will rain soon," it said.

The White Queen picked up another tart and inspected it just as shrewdly as she had the first.

"Good," she said. "We could use some rain."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Alice woke to the sound of rain and the feel of water hitting her face, a soft _pat-pat-pat _that was steady in rhythm and warm in temperature. It splashed against her cheeks, eyelids, forehead and chin like kisses from an anxious lover, demanding and questioning._ Wake up. Wake up. Are you well? Are you okay?_ _Thank goodness, thank goodness..._

She forced her eyes open and found herself staring up at a spectacular, bruised-colored sky. Dark purple clouds tinged with gray-green edges roiled in an angry mass above her, growing and bulging over and under each other in a slow motion throbbing that was unsettling to watch. Oddly, no crackling of lightning or booms of thunder accompanied the storm clouds, just rain. Falling steadily into her face.

Alice groaned and tried to roll away from it, but regretted the action immediately when it caused her muscles to seize up, the entire right side of her body twisting into one giant cramp.

She gasped and fell back, resisting the urge to fight her spasming muscles. She tried to distract herself from the pain by recalling how she had wound up like this, but the memories, as they trickled back, only made her feel worse.

The Red Knight showing up with all those Suits…

Charlie's sudden attack…

Guinevere running away… away from where Alice needed to be…

The feeling of being shot…

The last memory had her reaching up with her good arm to carefully feel around her shoulder, trying to get an idea of how bad the damage was without moving overmuch. The area was still mostly numb, unlike the rest of her body, and after some cautious probing she found a perfect, shallow hole, about the size of a BB pellet, clotted over and already hardening in the beginnings of a scab. There was no evidence of a bullet and the wound was too wide for a tranquilizer dart. The closest Alice could guess was that she'd been shot with some sort of sedative pellet, one that appeared to dissolve once it pierced the skin. A modest weapon for something so debilitating.

Slowly, her muscles began to loosen out. First in her leg, then in her side and arm, with her shoulder and neck last of all. When the pain had mostly subsided, Alice once again tried to rise. This time, she successfully made it all the way up into a sitting position before her muscles put up another protest, forcing her to once again pause and wait it out.

She took in her surroundings. The leaves and grasses surrounding her bounced and bobbed as the rain beat down on them. A cracked statue of a knight chess piece, half-covered in vine, said she was still in the Kingdom of the Knights, though not in a section she had ever been in before. Between the late hour and the rain, visibility was poor, but she was fairly certain she was alone. If the Suits had found her, they wouldn't have waited for her to rise before catching her. She would have woken up bound and already halfway back to the palace.

Next to her lay Hatter's old hat, now badly crumpled.

_I must have landed on it when I fell off of Guinevere._

She looked around for the old horse, concerned enough to risk calling out when she didn't immediately see her. A muffled whinny responded, and a few seconds later her cowardly mount trotted into view. She bumped Alice with her nose and chuffed hotly, as if Alice were the frustrating one.

Alice grabbed up the hat, then used Guinevere's reins to pull herself up, clinging to the horse's mane when she suffered a head rush and her legs wobbled.

"Charlie?" said Alice, but unlike his horse, he did not appear at the sound of his name. It didn't come as a surprise, but Alice's heart still sank as she was forced to accept the fact that her faithful White Knight was gone. He had sacrificed himself so she could get away. If he lived—_no, of course he was alive. Stay positive, Alice!_—he was most likely back in the custody of the Red Knight, and soon would be back in Jack's.

"God, Charlie, why did you have to go and get brave on me like that?" she whispered, voice thick as frustration, guilt, shock, and gratitude all jostled for position inside of her. He'd kept her from capture, yes, that wonderful, crazy, selfless old man. And being free was infinitely better then being taken back to rot in the palace dungeon while who knew what became of Hatter. But now she found herself stuck in a different but equally grim set of circumstances. She had now lost her only ally, who had also been her only way of finding Hatter, and she didn't have the time to go after him or the means of staging a rescue—not with the Red Knight and almost two dozen Suits as his guard.

The situation was back to looking hopeless again.

One of Guinevere's saddlebags was missing; the one that had contained extra clothes. Alice didn't bother wasting a lot of time looking for it. After a cursory search of the area around her, she gave it up for lost and went to make sure the remaining one was still secure. Then she checked Guinevere's girth, popped the dirty, bent hat on top of her head, and mounted up. She had a choice to make. Either she went after Hatter blind and prayed she eventually stumbled across the correct trail before some hideous beast found her and devoured her whole, or she went after Charlie on what would virtually equate to a suicide mission. She was under no illusions about either option. Both were equally terrible and doomed to fail. But… if she could only pick one…

It hurt to do it, but she tightened her heels against Guinevere's sides and angled the horse south, deeper into the forest where she thought a White Queen most likely to reside. Charlie had sacrificed himself to give Alice this chance to continue on. Risking going back only to get herself recaptured would be a poor way to repay him for it. Besides, she refused to change her priorities. She had come here for Hatter. The Red Queen, even Charlie, they all had to come second to that. Because if she let herself be sidetracked—noble cause or no—and lost Hatter because of it… that was the one loss she wouldn't be able to take.

For the first time, she found herself not only understanding her ex, but empathizing with him. Lies, betrayal, sacrifice, Jack would do it all for Wonderland. Hatter—Hatter was her Wonderland. She wasn't sure when it had happened. There wasn't an exact moment she could point to and go, "Ah, there. That's when he became so important to me." Rather, every moment spent with him held the utmost significance to her. And over time, those moments had all built up into something that would've been terrifying if she didn't have such faith in Hatter—faith those moments had given her. She would either come back with him by her side, or she wouldn't come back at all.

For the next several hours she rode through the downpour, Guinevere plodded along willingly enough but so slowly it was hardly worth riding her. Alice couldn't even get mad about it, since she had no idea where she was going anyway. She tried to do as Charlie said and "follow the magic," but since magic wasn't exactly a visible thing she had no idea how to find it, much less how follow it anywhere. She'd head off to the left, only to second guess herself and try going more to the right, creating pointless zigzags that only slowed them down more.

Eventually the rain tapered off, leaving the air muggy and thickly perfumed with the smell of wet soil and wood. Dawn came along shortly after that, a reluctant sun breaking through the intimidating mass of storm clouds, and still, nothing magical revealed itself. Guinevere's pace continued to slow, head drooping lower and lower until Alice felt like she was riding a headless horse. She at last conceded to a rest, and left the tired horse to graze while she made a search of the immediate area on foot, peeking under fallen logs and searching places not easily visible on horseback, feeling more foolish and desperate by the moment. She had no idea what she was looking for or where she was going, if she was even headed in the right direction. Even if she was somehow going the right way, she couldn't possibly be making good enough time.

_Follow the magic_.

She had never dealt with magic before, and already she was sick of it.

Alice sighed and tugged angrily on a strand of hair, which, thanks to the humidity, was sticking out in a half-hearted curl that reminded her of how Hatter's hair used to be, back before he'd come to her world. That first day, seeing his hair so subdued, so _not_ Hatter, that had be been a surprising change, to say the least.

At first, she'd assumed he'd changed it to make a good impression with her mother. But then he'd kept showing up that way, day after day, even when it was just the two of them, and Alice had finally been forced to ask what was up. Had he done something to it? Used some kind of gel or a straightener? And he'd smiled, slightly embarrassed, and said to her, "Ah, well, that's because there's no magic here."

Alice stopped dead in her tracks. She lost her grip on her hair and the frizzy strand was blown back by a straggling gust of wind left behind by the storm. She couldn't believe she had forgotten Hatter's innocent statement that day or the surreal and ridiculous conversation it had led them into after that.

"You see, magic was outlawed by the Red Queen when she first came to power. And since then, most of us have lost the ability to manipulate it with any kind of skill. Charlie would be your prime example of that. But magic still exists in its purest form in nature and in the body. Unless, of course, we leave Wonderland. Then… I guess you could say, it's like it goes dormant inside of us until we return."

Hatter's words, spoken in that usual, confident, fast-talking way of his, kick-started Alice's heart. Yes. Yes, she remembered this.

"So, what you're saying is, you have magic inside of you?" Her return query had been filled with amusement.

Hatter had smiled, but nodded seriously enough. "A small bit of magic resides inside of every living thing in Wonderland. Not much to do anythin' special, but it can enhance certain physical traits, like the brightness of someone's eyes or the smoothness of someone's skin. It can give certain animals unique skills…"

"Such as?"

"Humming birds, for instance."

"We have humming birds here, too," Alice had argued, unimpressed.

"Yes. But ours actually _hum_."

Alice turned and ran. Suddenly, she knew without a doubt where she could find such a thing. It was so obvious, she could kick herself for not having thought of it before.

_Hold on, Hatter,_ she thought. _I'm coming._

She mounted up quickly and rode back north, then turned east towards the grasslands she had passed when coming to the Kingdom of the Knights with Hatter and Charlie the first time.

The moment she broke through the treeline, she saw it—the giant mushroom. As tall as a small mountain and opalescent in color, what else but magic could be at work? There had to be something there that could help. If not a person, then a sign of where to go next. There just _had_ to be.

It took the rest of the day for Alice to reach it—though in her defense, the day lasted only half as long as it should have. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the horizon when she passed under the mushroom's mile-wide cap. From there, she dismounted and continued on foot to the base of the stalk. The mushroom's glow illuminated everything and cast it in soft focus. White particles shaped like oversized dandelion seeds fluttered down from the rippling gills above her, coating the ground like fuzzy snow. Alice moved forward cautiously, batting away the strange particles and squinting to see through the pale glare. Searching… hoping…

That's when she saw him.

His back was to her, but she'd recognize that messy mop of hair anywhere. It was back to its original, curling state, twice as wild without a hat to keep it in check. Her heart stuttered at the sight of that hair. It couldn't be. What were the odds? And yet, there was no denying that it was him. Free, alive, safe. _Here_.

"Hatter!"

At the sound of his name, he turned, and his face lit up at the sight of her. Alice ran to him. She threw herself into his arms and clung. His grip on her as just as strong.

"Thank god," she gasped out. "Thank god you're all right. How on earth did you—"

"I escaped." He said it simply, but there was undisguised pride in his voice. "I snuck out right from under the White Queen's nose. They probably won't even notice I'm gone 'til morning."

She ran her hands over his arms, shoulders, and back. Feeling, searching. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

He shook his head, burying his face in her neck and scratching her skin with his stubble. "I missed you so much, Alice."

"I missed you, too," she whispered. Perfect, that's what it was. Things could not have worked out any better. Now they just had to rescue Charlie, stop the Red Queen, and they could go home and put this terrible nightmare behind them.

"Charlie's safe," Hatter said, and Alice looked up at him in surprise, realizing she must've spoken her thoughts aloud.

"He is?" she said. "How do you know?"

"He came by this way, looking for you. Managed to shake the Red Knight off his tail, he said, but didn't know where you had gone. He thought you'd find your way here eventually, though, so I decided to wait while he went and looked around some more. He should return soon enough."

"I can't believe he managed to get away," said Alice. "You either. That's just so…"

"Brilliant? Fantastic? Awe-inspiring?"

Alice smacked his arm and he winked at her, pulling her back close to him.

"So it's just the Red Queen then," she said.

"I wouldn't bother frettin' about that, if I were you," said Hatter. "Ol' Jackie boy is more than capable of taking care of those things. It's his fight, not ours."

Alice frowned. It wasn't like Hatter to talk like that, not anymore.

"Are you sure nothing happened with the White Queen?" she asked.

"Didn't hang around long enough for somethin' to happen."

"Did you find out why she had you kidnapped?"

"Nope. And I'm just as happy not knowing." He certainly sounded it. His mood was the epitome of light-hearted. Well, relief probably contributed a lot to that. Alice was feeling pretty damn giddy herself.

She hugged him to her and told herself not to borrow trouble. Hatter was safe, Charlie was safe, and Hatter was right, Jack could probably handle finding his mother without their help, war or no. Her part was over. It had ended a bit abruptly, but in the best possibly way. Once she saw that Charlie was safe, she and Hatter could head home and put this all behind them.

"Just you and me," he whispered.

Yes, just him and her.

She hugged him tighter.

"I must say, it's been ages since I've seen a reunion this touching," said a voice from behind Alice. "Usually it's all vengeance and victory around this place. But then, that's what makes you the Champion, I guess. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

Alice twisted around to see who had spoken, keeping a hold of Hatter as she did so. After just getting him back, she was unwilling to leave his embrace unless she absolutely had to. Hatter, too, didn't let go of her.

At first, she thought it was Jack standing there; the height and posture were exactly the same. But this man was too skinny, his hair a shade too dark, and he sported a thin moustache and beard, whereas her ex had prided himself on always being clean-shaven.

Alice met his gaze and he gave a deferential nod. "It's an honor to meet you, Alice of Legend."

"Thanks, but I'm not a legend of anything," she said, in no mood for humoring undeserved bowing and scraping from a complete stranger.

He looked amused. "Is that right?"

"It is. Who are you?"

"My friends call me Lionel."

"Tough name."

Expression still pleasant, he replied, "I've had worse."

Perhaps he had. Alice looked him over. He didn't seem threatening. His eyes were kind, if slightly sad-looking. Maybe he was just tired. His clothes spoke of a man who traveled, far and often. Durable cloth, well-worn. A jacket with ragged cuffs. Scuffed boots.

"Was there something you needed help with?" Alice asked.

"On the contrary, it's you that seemed to need help," he said.

"What do you mean?"

Lionel gestured to Hatter. "You need to let go of him now."

"Excuse me?" said Alice.

Lionel either didn't catch the warning in her voice or chose to ignore it.

"You know better than this," he said, the words jarring with his sympathetic tone. It only riled Alice's temper more.

"What do you know about me?" she snapped.

"You're the Champion."

"I already said I'm_ not_!" It came out a shout, surprising both him and Alice equally. She was just too tired; she didn't have the patience for this now.

"How many times do I have to say it? I'm not a champion and I'm not a legend. I'm just Alice, nothing else."

"But only a champion can save the Hatter."

"There's no need to save him," said Alice, giving Hatter's sleeves a pointed tug. "He's right here."

Lionel shook his head and sighed. "You only wish it were that simple. You wished for it, and the mushroom gave it to you. That's what mushrooms do, and unfortunately this one is exceptionally good at it. I think it's because of its size; too much magic. But it's not real. It's only an illusion."

"It's _not_," said Alice. "Hatter, tell him!"

"Of course I'm real," said Hatter. He was still smiling that sweet smile of his, completely untroubled by the argument taking place in front of him. And why should he get mad over it? This whole conversation was ridiculous and stupid.

"_See_?" said Alice. Of course Hatter was real. An illusion couldn't possibly hold onto her like this. He was real, safe, and they were going home. Just as soon as Charlie got back, they'd say their goodbyes and be on their way. Everything was fine; everything was perfect. This man, Lionel, _he_ was the illusion, which was why Hatter wouldn't look at him, wouldn't acknowledge him. Yes, that was it.

When she said as much, Lionel only shook his head again, and there was definite sadness in his eyes now. "If you do not let go, then we will all be lost," he told her. "The Hatter will be lost."

_But he was right here!_ She wanted to scream it at him. Hatter's grip on her was painful now. Alice's hands trembled where she held him.

"You escaped," murmured Alice. "You escaped from the White Queen without a scratch, and we met up here."

"We did," confirmed Hatter.

"Charlie wasn't caught. He got away from the Red Knight and is looking for me now. He'll be back soon."

"He will," reassured Hatter.

"Jack doesn't need my help. The Red Queen isn't my problem."

"He doesn't; she isn't," Hatter agreed promptly.

Alice's eyes burned. She pressed her face against his collar. He smelled exactly the same as always. He was as solid and warm as he ever was. She could even hear his heart beat. Her senses all said he was real.

_Except_…

Except Hatter wasn't one to humor her. Nor was he the type stay out of a fight when help was needed. He certainly wouldn't stand around and let some strange guy call him a mere illusion without having something to say about it.

Too cruel, thought Alice. The magic here was just too cruel.

She took a shaky breath and looked up at the man she'd give her life to protect, and who she knew would do the same for her without hesitation. That she'd been lucky enough to find someone like that… Lionel was right. She had to be better than this.

Even if it killed her to do it.

"Tell me you'll stay alive," she said.

"I will," Hatter promised.

"Tell me Charlie will be okay."

"He will be."

Alice nodded. She stretched up and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Hatter."

And because it was what she needed to hear, Hatter said, "I love you, too, Alice." As if it were a bygone fact and not something they had never admitted aloud to before.

Alice let go.

The moment her fingers released his sleeves, Hatter's grip on her went slack. He dissipated before her eyes like colorful smoke into the sky. Not once did his smile waver.

Within seconds, he was gone.

It took Alice a long time to turn around and leave. When she finally did, she found Lionel waiting for her near Guinevere, his own horse by his side.

She stopped in front of him, feeling awkward and embarrassed and a little angry too, which probably wasn't fair, but there it was.

"I should probably thank you…" she started, trailing off.

He nodded as if he could hear the end of that sentence, which was, _"But I can't."_

She nodded back dully, then moved past him to mount back up. She felt physically exhausted and mentally drained. She thought she had figured things out, but all she had found here was more heartbreak and no trail. Despite knowing she couldn't give up, she had never felt so discouraged in her life.

"You'll want to go that way," said Lionel, pointing east.

"And why's that?" said Alice.

"Because that's the way to the White Queen's place."

_That_ got Alice's attention. She jerked her head up. "You know the way to the White Queen?"

"Didn't I just say as much?"

"But… how did you know I was looking for her?" Her illusion had showed only her desire to see Hatter.

"Word travels fast around here. Lots of rumors going around." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Alice of Legend is back; the White Queen lives and has taken the Hatter." His voice grew soft. "War is coming."

"Will you take me to the White Queen?" Alice asked, hardly daring to hope, _again_, that she had found a way.

He cocked his head as if debating it, but when he caught her gaze he smiled.

"If Alice of Legend needs my help," he said, "then help is what I will give her."

Alice could have kissed him. "Really? You really will?"

"It would be my honor."

Well, if his believing so got her to the White Queen, she wasn't going to argue it, not this time.

"I thought this was the place," she admitted to him as he mounted his own horse. "To find the Queen, I mean. A friend told me to follow the magic, so…"

"So you found the biggest bit of magical fungi in Wonderland, thinking something _that_ huge had to be a sign of something, am I right?" She nodded. "Not a bad deduction to make, for an Oyster."

"But wrong," Alice guessed.

"You don't _see_ magic," Lionel said, "only what it transforms. And just because something might contain more magic than something else is no definite sign of anything. It's certainly not something you can accurately follow to anywhere."

"Then what—"

"You have to _feel_ it," he said. "Way down in your gut. That's what you follow. You feel the call to the magic inside of you, and you go. Oysters don't have magic, so the odds of them feeling it, well, let's just say _I've_ never heard of it."

"Is… is that why I couldn't… I mean, is that why that illusion back there… of Hatter… is that why I couldn't see through it?" Alice asked, and just the memory pinched her heart.

Lionel shook his head. "Even Wonderlanders are fooled by mushroom illusions," he said. "It's nothing you need to feel ashamed about."

"But you were fine," Alice pointed out. She tried not to say it accusingly, but she couldn't help feeling a little suspicious by it.

"I had my run-in with this particular mushroom before," he told her. "It wears off after a while, like anything else. You would've escaped it on your own too, eventually. However, I'm glad I saw you. We really didn't have ten years to spare while you worked through it."

"Ten years is a bit of an exaggeration," mumbled Alice.

"You think so?" Lionel gestured to the far skyline, which was already growing light with the first signs of dawn. "I waited a while before interrupting you," he said quietly. "You'd be surprised how easily time will get away from you when you're caught in a moment like that."

Alice gaped. She'd stood there all night? But it had only felt like _minutes_…

"The nights and days are shorter now," she said defensively.

He didn't argue with her, for which she was grateful. Instead, he only said, "Shall I lead the way, then?"

After a brief hesitation, Alice nodded.

As they set off away from the giant mushroom, Alice made herself a vow: that the next time she found Hatter, it would be for real. She wouldn't give up; she wouldn't let go.

_So wherever you are out there, Hatter,_ she thought, _you can't let go either, okay? Promise you'll wait for me._

And maybe it was just the aftereffects of the mushroom's magic, but from within the morning breeze she swore she heard the words, _"I promise," _whispered softly. And illusion or not, it lightened her heart and gave her strength.

"I'm coming, Hatter," she said. "I'm coming."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

It was impossible to slouch while wearing armor; the metal just would not give that way. Because of how the plates aligned, it only allowed your body to bend at the most crucial of places and nowhere else. This forced you to remain perfectly straight, even when sitting. An uncomfortable position at best, painful at worst. Normally, it didn't bother Abigail so much. At one time, she had even been glad for it, looking at it as a way to keep her posture nice and make her appear more intimidating. That positive way of thinking had dulled over her months of service, but never had she felt so resentful of her restrictive outfit as she did at this moment. Right now, she couldn't care less about her posture or how she appeared to others. Her mood was black and she felt, at the very least, that she should be able to express it with a good, angry slouch. Being force to stay ramrod straight in her seat on top of everything else was only making her angrier. She added it to the running tally she was keeping of the pros and cons of being the Red Knight. This one was definitely going under the cons column, right under her most recent entry, 'extreme disillusionment'.

Charlie sat across from her. They were the only two in the royal meeting room. He sat slightly to the left of her instead of directly across, as she had stuck him in a pawn chair instead of one of the other knight seats. She'd be damned if she'd give him that honor now, when she knew the truth.

He wasn't a knight at all.

Her bitterness was so strong she could almost taste it. She'd taken his armor—armor that should have been her first clue that he wasn't all he claimed to be—but he sat as if he were still wearing it. He had nerve, she thought, to continue holding himself so tall when he was nothing but a liar. To think that this was the man she had been admiring for so long, the man she had wanted to stand with ever since she'd heard the tale of his bravery in helping to overthrow the Red Queen. His clever ploy of using the bones of his fallen comrades to distract the Suits while Alice of Legend infiltrated the Casino and brought it tumbling down had seemed as heartrending as it was genius to Abigail. He had been her hero. A true knight. Or so she believed.

But what was he really? Just an old man, all bluster and bones. One who barely knew how to hold his sword correctly. Abigail fought back the renewed anger that boiled up with the memory of their brief battle. Truly, it was an insult to even call it a 'battle', she'd felled him so easily. He'd charged her, and with one swing she'd unarmed him. One blow to the head, and he was out. To think that the first time she had arrested him, she'd believed him _noble_ when he had submitted without a fight. The reality was he'd simply known he hadn't a chance of beating her. What an idiot she'd been! What and idiot she was!

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charlie rub at the swollen lump near his temple where she had clocked him with the pommel of her sword. Shame that she had unwittingly battered an old man made her face hot, even as she told herself that it was his fault for so grossly misrepresenting himself.

"When the king gets here, you need to tell him everything," she told him. "Everything that you know. No holding out."

He immediately dropped his hand and turned his head away, saying curtly, "As if a knight would freely give information to the enemy."

Abigail's temper flared. He was no knight!

"If you don't talk, I won't be held responsible for what happens to you."

He said nothing. Tense silence fell. It was a blessed relief when the door flew open several minutes later and the Red King strode in, though one look at his face and Abigail knew things were not about to get any better.

She stood and bowed—at the waist, because her armor would allow for nothing less. Charlie also got to his feet but didn't bow. Even only clad in his underclothes with a ridiculous bump sticking out of his head, he held about him a quiet dignity that galled. Had he no shame that he wouldn't drop the knightly act even after he was found out?

But her anger at Charlie was nothing compared to the king's anger at _her_. She met his gaze and actually took a step back from the fury she saw there.

"Three days you've been gone, and this is all you return with?" Jack said with a furious gesture at Charlie. "Did I not make myself clear before you left? Where is Alice? Where is the Red Queen? Have you accomplished _nothing_ useful, Red Knight?"

"I have," said Abigail. "Though Alice and the Red Queen are still missing, it is for a surety that they are seeking out the White Queen—"

"Something we already knew!" snapped Jack.

"Yes, but what we _didn't_ know is that _he_ knows how to find her." Abigail pointed to Charlie. His expression was closed off, his chin tipped up arrogantly, and he absolutely refused to look at her, the stupid, stubborn man.

She jabbed a finger at him a second time just out of spite.

"A couple of the Suits heard him discussing it with Alice while we were following them. Although no specifics were heard, there is no doubt that he can tell us how to get to the White Queen."

"Is this true?" Jack asked Charlie, and damn the man if he didn't lift his chin up even higher and ignore the king too. Abigail sent him a warning glare. She had half a mind to kosh him again just out of irritation. Did he not understand the precariousness of his situation?

"It's true," she assured the Red King when Charlie refused to answer. "Just give me some time alone with him and I'm sure I can get him to—"

"To what? Not tell you anything like always?" Jack mocked. "No, you had your chance to get him to open up to you—for _months_, I might add—and have only been unsuccessful."

Abigail stood there stiffly, unable to argue because he was the king and what he said wasn't wrong. She _had_ failed to get Charlie to tell her anything since locking him up, mostly because she hadn't wanted to force him. Her thinking had been that he was a fellow knight and deserved respect, no matter that they were temporarily on opposite sides.

_Lies_, she thought. _Lies and foolishness._

The embarrassment of it all was almost too much to stand.

The Red King sighed, expelling some of his anger in that one harried exhale.

"I no longer have the time to be patient about this," he told her with what might have been a hint of regret. Turning, he headed out, ordering as he went, "Take him to the doctors. If he knows anything, they'll get it out of him."

Abigail's stomach lurched. "The doctors? But… aren't they busy with—" She hesitated, glancing cautiously over at Charlie. She finished carefully, "—with other things?"

Jack stopped and looked back at her, his understanding clear.

"They can't do anything else until the last piece is found," he said. "So we might as well put them to work in the meantime. This way we'll have a location when we need it."

Abigail might have tried to argue more, but the Red King nodded sharply then and stepped out, and she didn't dare call after him again. Give the White Knight to Doctor Dee and Dum? Had they really reached that point of desperation?

She rounded on Charlie.

"What is wrong with you? Are you mute and deaf as well as a liar? Why didn't you just tell him what he wanted to know?"

"I cannot betray my queen," he replied, still without looking at her. "I know my vows."

"You are not a knight!" Abigail cried. "You don't have any queen! You don't have any vows! You're just a crazy old man who doesn't know when to quit pretending! If you don't talk, those doctors will _kill_ you, do you understand?"

Maybe he did and maybe he didn't, he refused to say. Abigail fought the urge to scream in pure frustration. Why? Why was he being like this? She didn't understand it! To take the act to this extreme… was he actually crazy, in truth?

She grabbed him by the arm and hauled him out. Next to her hard shining armor, he looked like a turtle that had lost his shell. Weak and vulnerable.

Abigail shoved back her pity and picked up her pace. He had brought this upon himself. She had only done her job. And she had _tried_ to help him. If he wasn't going to cooperate then there was nothing she could do for him. He was on his own now, her fake Knight. Hopefully the doctors would break him quick, before much damage could be done. Really, that's the best they could hope for now.

May Time have mercy on his pitiable soul.


End file.
